F AN ATIVC||.SM. 



BY TPIE AUTHOR OF 

NATURAL HISTORY OF ENTHUSIASM. 



irt 







NEW-YORK 



PUBLISHED BY JONATHAN LEAVITT, 181 BROADWAY 

BOSTON: 

CROCKER & BREWSTER, 47 WASHINGTON-STREET. 



, A- 



1834 






KEW-YORK; 
PRINTED BY R. & G. 3. WOOD, 231 PSARL-STREET. 



Krtwngft? 










PREFACE. 



H 



Strict propriety seldom allows an author to obtrude upon the public 
the circumstances that may have attended and controlled his literary 
labours. Yet the rule may give way to special reasons ; and in the 
present instance the reader is requested courteously to admit an 
exception. 

More than twelve years ago the Author projected a work which 
should at one view exhibit the several principal forms of spurious or 
corrupted religion. But discouraged by the magnitude and difficulty 
of such a task, he after a while, yet not without much reluctance, 
abandoned the undertaking. Nevertheless the subject continually 
pressed upon his mind. At length he selected a single portion of the 
general theme, and adventured — Natural History of Enthusiasm. | 

Emboldened to proceed, the Author almost immediately entered 
upon the nearly connected and sequent subject which fills the present 
volume. Yet fearing lest, by an unskilful or unadvised treatment of 
certain arduous matters which it involves, he might create embar- 
rassment where most he desired to do good, he laid aside his 
materials. 

But in the interval, by extending his researches concerning the rise 
and progress of the fatal errors that have obscured our holy religion, 
the Author greatly enhanced his wish to achieve his first purpose. 
He therefore resumed Fanaticism ;^ which is now ofiered to the 
candour of the Reader. He next proposes, in advancing towards 
the completion of his original design, to take in hand Superstition, I 
and its attendant Credulity. 

A natural transition leads from Superstition and Credulity to 
SpiuitualDespotism.*' The principal perversions of Religion having 
thus been reviewed, it would be proper to describe that Corp.uptiom 
05" Morals which, in difierent modes, has resulted from the over- 
throw of genuine piety. There would then only remain to be 
considered Scepticism, *or Philosophic Irreligion^j and the series will 
embrace all that the Author deems indispensable to the undertaking 
he has so long meditated. 



CONTENTS. 



SECTION I. 

Page 

Motives of the Work . 1 

SECTION II. 
The Meaning of Terms — Rise of the Malign Emotions . 17 

SECTION III. 
Alliance of the Malign Emotions with the Imagination . . 33 

SECTION IV, 

Fanaticism the Offspring of Enthusiasm ; or Combination 
of the Mahgu Emotions with Spurious Religious 
Sentiments ......... 51 

SECTION V. 
Fanaticism of the Scourge 63 

SECTION VI. 
Fanaticism of the Brand 104 

SECTION VII. 
Fanaticism of the Banner . . . . . . . 155 

SECTION VIII. 
Fanaticism of the Symbol 215 

SECTION IX. 

The Religion of the Bible not Fanatical (The Old Testa- 
ment) 269 

SECTION X. 

The ReUgion of the Bible not Fanatical (The New Testa- 
ment) 310 



FANATICISM. 



SECTION I. 



MOTIVES OP THE WORK. 



The maladies of the mind are not to be healed any 
more than those of the body unless by a friendly hand. 
But through a singular infeHcity it too often happens 
that these evils, deep as they are, and difficult of cure, 
fall under a treatment that is hostile and malign, or, 
what is worse, frivolous. Especially does this disad- 
vantage attach to that peculiar class of mental disor- 
ders which, as they are more profound in their origin 
than any other, and more liable to extreme aggra- 
vation, demand in whoever would relieve them, not 
only the requisite skill, but the very purest intentions. 
Vitiated religious sentiments have too much con- 
nexion with the principles of our physical constitution 
to be in every case effectively amended by methods 
that are merely theological ; and yet, drawing their 
strength as they do from great truths with which the 
physiologist has ordinarily little or no personal acquaint- 
ance, and which perhaps he holds in contempt, he is 
likely to err, as well in theory as in practice, when he 
takes them in hand. How profound soever or exact 
may be his knowledge of human nature, whether as 
matter of science or as matter of observation, the 

2 



2 FANATICISM. 

subject, in these instances, lies beyond his range f— - 
himself neither religious nor even superstitious, he 
has no sympathy with the deep movements of the soul 
in its relation to the Infinite and Invisible Being ; — he 
has no clue therefore to the secret he is in search of. 
The misapprehensions of the frigid philosopher are 
vastly increased if it should happen that, in reference 
to religion, his feelings are petulant and acrimonious. 
Poor preparation truly for a task of such peculiar 
difficulty to be at once ignorant in the chief article of 
the case, and hurried on by the motives that attend a 
caustic levity of temper I 

It would indeed be difficult to furnish a satisfactory 
reason either for the asperity or for the levity with 
which persons of a certain class allow themselves to 
speak of grave perversions of the religious sentiment ; 
for if such vices of the spirit be regarded as corruptions 
of the most momentous of all truths, then surely a due 
affection for our fellow-men, on the one hand, and a 
proper reverence towards Heaven on the other, alike 
demand from reasonable persons as well tenderness 
as awe, in approaching a subject so fraught with fatal 
mischiefs. Or even if Religion be deemed by these 
sarcastic reprovers altogether an illusion, or an invet- 
erate prejudice, infesting our luckless nature, not the 
more, even in that case, can rancour or levity become 
a wise and benevolent mind, seeing that these same 
powerful sentiments whether true or false, do so deeply 
affect the welfare of the human family. 

Or to look at the subject on another side, it may 
fairly be asked why the religious passions might not 
claim from supercilious wits a measure of that lenity 
(if not indulgence) which is readily afforded to vices 
of another sort. If Pride abhorrent as it is, and if 
Ambition, with both hands dyed in blood, and if the 
lust of wealth making the weak its prey, and if sensual 
desires, devoid of pity, are all to be gently handled, 
and all in turn find patrons among Sages — why might 
not also Fanaticism? why might not Enthusiasm? 



MOTIVES OP THE WORK. 3 

why not Superstition ? It would be hard to prove 
that the deluded religionist, even when virulent in an 
extreme degree, or when most absurd, is practically 
a more mischievous person than for instance, the adul- 
terous despoiler of domestic peace, or than the rapa- 
cious dealer in human souls and bodies. Let it be 
true that the Hypocrite is an odious being ; — yes, but 
is not the Oppressor also detestable 1 And what has 
become of the philosophic impartiality of the Sage 
(self-styled) who will spend his jovial hours at the 
table of the Cruel or the Debauched, while all he can 
bestow upon the victims of religious extravagance, is 
the bitterness of his contempt^ There is a manifest 
inconsistency here of which surely those should be 
able to give a good account who, themselves, are far 
too wise than to be religious \ 

We leave this difficulty in the hands of the parties 
it may concern, and proceed to say that emotions 
altogether strange to frigid and sardonic tempers must 
have come within the experience of whoever would 
truly comprehend the malady of the fanatic or the 
enthusiast ; and much more so, if he is attempting to 
restore the disordered spirit to soundness of health. — 
Mere intellectualtsts, as well as men of pleasure, know 
just so much of human nature as their own frivolous 
sentiments may serve to give them a sense of : all 
that lies deeper than these slender feelings, or that 
stretches beyond this limited range, is to them a riddle 
and a mockery. But it may happen that a mind 
natively sound, and one now governed by the firmest 
principles, has in an early stage, or in some short era 
of its course, so far yielded to the influence of irregu- 
lar or vehement sentiments as to give it ever after a 
sympathy, even with the most extreme cases of the 
same order ; so that, by the combined aid of personal 
experience and observation, the profound abyss where- 
in exorbitant religious ideas take their course may 
successfully be explored ; — nor merely explored, but 
its fearful contents brought forth and described, and 



4 FANATICISM. 

this too in the spirit of humanity, or with the feeling" 
of one who, far from affecting to look down as from 
a pinnacle upon the follies of his fellow-men, speaks 
in kindness of their errors, as being himself liable to 
every infirmity that besets the human heart and under- 
standing. 

Never in fact, have we more urgent need of a 
settled principle of philanthropy than when we set 
foot upon the ground of religious delusion. Nowhere, 
so much as there, is it necessary to be resolute in our 
good-will to man, and fixed in our respect for him too, 
even while the strictness of important principles is not 
at all relaxed. Far more easy is it to be contemptu- 
ously bland, than kind and firm on occasions of this 
sort. We have only to abandon our concern for seri- 
ous truths, and then may be indulgent to the worst 
enormities. — ^But this were a cruel charity, and a farce 
too ; and we must seek a much surer foundation for 
that love which is to be the consort of knowledge. 

A personal consciousness of the readiness with 
which even the most egregious or dangerous perver- 
sions of feeling at first recommend themselves to the 
human mind, and soon gain sovereign control over it, 
is needed to place us in the position we ought to 
occupy whenever such evils are to be made the subject 
of animadversion. And if, with the light of Christi- 
anity full around us, and with the advantages of gene- 
ral intelligence on our side, we yet cannot boast of 
having enjoyed an entire exemption from false or cul- 
pable religious emotions, what sentiment but pity 
should be harboured when we come to think of those 
who, born beneath a malignant star, have walked by 
no other light than the lurid glare of portentous super- 
stitions 1 — A check must even be put to those strong 
and involuntary emotions of indignation with which 
we contemplate the hateful course of the spiritual des- 
pot and persecutor. — Outlaw of humanity, and off- 
spring, as he seems, of infernals, he may command 
also a measure of indulgence as the child of some false 



MOTIVES OF THE WORK. D 

system which, by a slow accumulation of noxious qual- 
ities, has grown to be far more malign than its authors 
would have made it. Besides ; there may revolve 
within the abyss of the human heart (as history com- 
pels us to admit) a world of wondrous inconsis- 
tencies ; and especially so when religious infatuations 
come in to trouble it. How often has there been seen 
upon the stage of human affairs beings — must we call 
them men ? who, with hands sodden in blood — blood 
of their brethren, have challenged to themselves, and 
on no slender grounds, the praise of a species of virtue 
and greatness of soul ! 

The very same spirit of kindness which should rule 
us in the performance of a task such as the one now 
in hand, must also furnish the necessary motive for the 
arduous undertaking. Is it a matter of curious des- 
cription only, or of entertainment, or even with the 
more worthy, though secondary purpose of philoso- 
phical inquiry, that we are to pass over the ground of 
religious extravagance ? Any such intention would 
be found to lack impulse enough for the labour. There 
are hov/ever at hand motives of an incomparably 
higher order, and of fur greater force, and these (or 
some of them at least) have a peculiar urgency in re- 
ference to the present moment. To these motives too 
much importance cannot be attributed ; and it will be 
well that w^e should here distinctly bring them to 
view. 

All devout minds are now intent upon the hope of 
the overtlu'ow of old superstitions, and of the universal 
spread of the Gospel. But the spread of the Gospel, 
as we are warranted to believe, implies and demands 
its clear separation from all those false sentiments and 
exaggerated or mischievous modes of feeling which 
heretofore, and so often, have embarrassed its course. 
In a word Christianity must free itself from all en- 
tanglement with malignant or exorbitant passions, if 
it would break over its present boundaries. Is the 
world to be converted — are the nations to be brought 

2* 



6 FANATICISM. 

home to God? Yes; — but this supposes that the 
Christian body should awake from every illusion, and 
rid itself of every disgrace. 

True indeed it is, and lamentable, that the families 
of man have remained age after age the victims of 
error: yet this has not happened because there has 
not been extant in every age, somew^here, a repository 
of truth, and an Instrument, or means of instruction. 
If even now superstition and impiety share between 
them the empire of almost all the world, it is not be- 
cause nothing better comes within the reach of the 
human mind, or because nothing more benign is pre- 
sented to its choice. No — for absolute Truth, Truth 
from heaven, has long sojourned on earth, and is to be 
conversed with. Why then do the people still sit in 
darkness? — The question may painfully perplex us, 
yet should never be dismissed. Rather a genuine and 
intelligent compassion for our fellow-men will lead us 
to prosecute with intense zeal any inquiry which may 
issue in the purification of the means of salvation con- 
fided to our care. If the Gospel does not (as we: 
might have expected, and must always desire) prevail 
and run from land to land — the anxious question recurs 
— what arrests its progress ? 

Besides employing ourselves then in all eligible 
modes for propagating the faith, every one competent 
to the task, should institute a scrutiny, at home and 
abroad, in quest as well of open hinderances to the 
progress of the Gospel, as of the more latent or ob- 
scure causes of obstruction. The great work in an 
age of Missions, should it be any thing else than the 
re-inauguration of Christianity among ourselves? If 
religion — religion we mean, not as found on parch- 
ments, or in creeds, but in the bosoms of men, w-ere 
indeed what once it was, it would doubtless spread, as 
once it did, from heart to heart, and from city to city, 
and from shore to shore. The special reason therefore 
— or the URGENT reason, why we should now dismiss 
from our own bosoms every taint of superstition, and 



MOTIVES OF THE WORK. 7 

every residue of unbelief, as v^^ell as whatever is fanat- 
ical, factious, or uncharitable, is this — that the world 
- — even the deluded millions of our brethren, may at 
length receive the blessings of the Gospel. 

Although we were looking no further than to the 
personal welfare of individuals, it would always seem 
in the highest degree desirable that whoever believes 
the Gospel should cast off infirmities of judgment — 
preposterous suppositions — idle and debilitating fears, 
and especially should come free from the taint of 
malign sentiments. But after we have so thought of 
the individual, must we not give a renewed attention 
to the influence he may exert over others ? No one 
"liveth to himself." — An efficacy, vital or mortal, 
emanates from the person of every professor of the 
Gospel. — Every man calling himself (in a special 
sense) a Christian, either saves or destroys those 
around him : — Such is the rule of the dispensation 
under which we have to act. It pleases not the Divine 
Power (very rare cases excepted) to operate inde- 
pendently of that living and rational agency to which 
even the scheme of human redemption was made to 
conform itself. The Saviour of men "became flesh,, 
and dwelt among us," because no violence could be 
done, even on the most urgent and singular of all 
occasions, to the established principles of the moral 
system. — The harmony of the intellectual world, in 
the constitution of which the Divine Wisdom is so 
signally displayed, must not be disturbed, notwith- 
standing that the Eternal Majesty himself was coming 
to the rescue of the lost ; and in this illustrious in- 
stance we have a proof, applicable to every imaginable 
case, and always suffixient to convince us — That the 
saving mercy of God to man moves only along th& 
line of rational and moral agency ; — that if a sinner is 
to be " converted from the error of his way," it must 
be by the word or personal influence of one like hin> 
self. Was it not (other purposes being granted) ta 
give sanction to this very mode of procedure, that He 
who " was rich" in the fulness of divine perfections^ 



8 FANATICISM. 

" became poor," that we, through the poverty of his 
human nature, " might be made rich ? " Vain sup- 
position then that God, who would not at first save the 
world at the cost, or to the damage of the settled 
maxims of his government, shall in after instances 
waive them ; or put contempt in private cases upon that 
to which he attributed the highest importance on the 
most notable of all occasions ! 

Christianity, such as it actually exists in the bosoms 
of those who enteilain it, is the Instrument of God's 
mercy to the world : — -and the Effect in every age will 
be as is the Instrument. In these times we have not 
quite lost sight of this great principle ; much less do 
we deny it : — and yet every day we give more 
attention to other truths, than to this. We honour 
the capitar doctrine of the agency of the Spirit of 
Grace in the conversion of men ; and then we turn to 
proximate and visible means, and pay due regard to 
all the ordinary instruments of instruction. And thus 
having rendered homage in just proportion, to the 
Divine Power and sovereignty on the one hand, and 
to human industry on the other, we think too little of 
that Middle Truth which, nevertheless, to ourselves is 
the most significant of the three, namely — That the 
moral and intelligent instrumentality from the which 
the Sovereign Grace refuses to sever itself, is nothing 
else than the vital force which animates each single 
believer. 

Does not the Omnipresent Spirit, rich in pov/er io 
renovate human hearts, even now brood over the 
populous plains and crowded cities of India and of 
China, as well as over the cities and plains of England? 
Is not God — even our God, locally present among the 
dense myriads that tread the precincts of idol worship? 
' — Is He not ever, and in all places at hand ; and 
wherever at hand, able also to save ? Yes, but alas I 
the moral and rational instrumentality is not present in 
those dark places ; and the immutable law of the 
spiritual world forbids that, apart from this system of 
means, the souls of men should be rescued^ 



MOTIVES OF THE WORK. U 

Nor is the bare presence of the moral and rational in- 
strument of conversion enough;— for its Power resides 
in its Quality. The very same law — awful and invio- 
lable, which demands its presence, demands also its 
quality, as the condition of its efficiency. Yes, in- 
deed, awful and inviolable law ; — awful because invi- 
olable ; and awful to the Church, because it makes 
the salvation of mankind, in each successive genera- 
tion, to lean with undivided stress, upon the purity and 
vigour of faith and charity, as found in the hearts of 
the Christians of each age, severally and collectively! 

There might, we grant, seem more urgent need to 
make inquiry concerning the intrinsic condition of the 
Christian body in those times when its diffusive influ- 
ence had sunk to the lowest point, or seemed quite to 
have failed, than when this influence was growing. 
And yet, inasmuch as hope is a motive incomparably 
more efficacious than despondency, we should be 
prompt to avail ourselves of its aid whenever it makes 
its auspicious appearance. But the present hour is an 
hour of hope ; — let us then seize the fair occasion, and 
turn it to the utmost advantage. This age of expecta- 
tion is the time when vigilance and scrutiny, of every 
sort, should be put in movement, and should be 
directed inward upon the Church itself: for in the 
bosom of the Church rests the hope of the conversion 
of the world ? 

How culpable then, and how ignoble too, must we 
deem that spirit of jealousy or reluctance which would 
divert such a scrutiny, as if the honour of the Gospel 
were better secured by cloaking the faults of its 
adherents, than by labouring to dispel them 1 Shall 
we, as Christians, wish to creep under the shelter of 
a corrupt lenity ? Shall we secretly wish that the 
time may never come — or at least, not come while 
we live, when the inveterate and deep-seated errors 
of the religious body shall be fairly dealt with, and 
honestly spread to the light ? It may indeed be true 
that when we have to denounce the flagrant evils that 



10 FANATICISM. 

abound in the world, and when open impiety and 
unbelief are to be reproved, we should use a serious 
severity ; but then, when we turn homeward, shall 
we at once moderate our tones, and drop our voice, 
and plead for a sort of indulgence, as the favourites 
of heaven, which we are by no means forward to 
grant to the uninstructed and irreligious portion of 
mankind ? Shall our thunders always have a distant 
aim ? Alas ! how many generations of men have 
already lived and died untaught, while the Church has 
delicately smothered her failings, and has asked for 
an inobservant reverence from the profane world ! 
True it is that the vices of heathens and infidels are 
grievous; but it is also true that the vices of the 
Church, if much less flagrant, and less mischievous in 
their immediate operation, are loaded with a peculiar 
aggravation, inasmuch as they destroy or impair the 
<ONLY EXISTING MEANS for the rcprcssion and exter- 
mination of all error and all vice ! 

If then the alleged dependence of the religious 
welfare of mankind upon the vigour and purity of the 
Christian body be real, we find a full apology for 
whatever methods (even the most rigorous) that may 
conduce to its cleansing. All we need take care of 
is the spirit and intention of our reproofs. Should 
there be any, calling himself a disciple of Christ, who 
would protest against such impartial proceedings, he 
might properly be told that the inquiry in hand is too 
momentous, and is far too extensive in its conse- 
quences, than that it should be either diverted or 
relinquished in deference to the feelings or interests 
of the parties immediately concerned. — * Be it so,' 
we might say to the reluctant and faulty Christian, 
be it so, that your spiritual delinquencies are not of 
so fatal a kind as to put in danger your personal 
salvation (an assumption, by the way, always hazard- 
ous) and let it be granted that you are chargeable 
only with certain infirmities of judgment, or with 
mere exuberances in temper or conduct ; — yes, but 



MOTIVES OP THE WORK. 11 

these faults in yow, as a Christian, and especially at 
the present critical moment, exert a negative power, 
the circle of which none can measure. Can you then 
desire that we should exercise a scrupulous tenderness 
toward you, while we forget pity towards the millions 
of mankind ? Nay, rather, let every instrument of 
correction, and the most severe, be put in play, which 
may seem needful for restoring its proper force to the 
Gospel — the only means as it is of mercy to the 
world.' No, we must not flinch, although the sensi- 
tiveness and the vanity of thousands among us were 
to be intensely hurt. Let all — all be humbled, if such 
humiliation is indeed a necessary process that shall 
facilitate the conversion of the world. 

Such then is the prime motive which should animate 
the difficult labour we have in hand. But there are 
other reasons, nor those very remote, that may prop- 
erly be kept in view when it is attempted, as now, to 
lay bare the pernicious sentiments that have so often 
and so severely afflicted mankind. — If, just at the 
present moment, there seems little or no probability 
that sanguinary and malignant superstitions should 
regain their lost ascendancy, can we say it is certain 
that no such evils, congruous as they are with the 
universal passions of man, shall henceforth be gener- 
ated, and burst abroad ? Manifest as it is that the 
human mind has a leaning toward gloomy and cruel 
excesses in matters of religion, whence can we derive 
a firm persuasion that this tendency shall, in all future 
ages, be held as much in check as now it is ? — Not 
surely from broad and comprehensive calculations, 
such as a sound philosophy authenticates. The sup- 
position that human nature has for ever discarded 
certain powerful emotions which awhile ago raged 
within its circle, must be deemed frivolous and absurd. 
How soon may we be taught to estimate more wisely 
the forces we have to guard against in our political 
and religious speculations ! The frigid indifference 
and levity we see around us is but the fashion of a 



12 FANATICISM. 

day ; and a day may see it exchanged for the utmost 
extravagance, and for the highest frenzy of fanatical 
zeal. Human nature, let us be assured, is a more 
profound and boisterous element than we are apt to 
imagine, when it has happened to us for a length of 
time to stand upon the brink of the abyss in a summer 
season, idly gazing upon the rippled surface — ^gay in 
froth and sunbeams. What shall be the movements 
of the deep, and what the thunder of its rage, at night* 
fall, and when the winds are up ! 

Nothing less than the ample testimony of history 
can support general conclusions as to what is probable 
or not, in the course of events. And yet even the 
events of the last few years might he enough to prove 
that mankind, whatever may be the boasted advance 
of civilization, has by no means outgrown its propen- 
sity to indulge vindictive passions. Or can we have 
looked abroad during our own era, and believe that 
the fascinations of impudent imposture and egregious 
delusion are quite spent and gone ? Rather let it be 
assumed as probable, at least as not impossible, that 
whatever intemperance, whatever atrocity, whatever 
folly, iiistory lays to the charge of man, shall be re- 
peated, perhaps in our own age, perhaps in the next. 

The security which some may presume upon, against 
the reappearance of religious excesses, if founded on 
the present diffusion of intellectual and Biblical light, 
is likely to prove fallacious in two capital respects. 
In the first place, the inference is faulty because this 
spread of knowledge (in both kinds) though indeed 
wide and remarkable — -or remarkable hy comparison^ 
is still in fact very limited, and its range bears an in- 
considerable proportion to the broad surface of society, 
even in the most enlightened communities. If a cer* 
tain number has reached that degree of intelligence 
which may be reckoned to exclude altogether the 
probability of violent movements, the dense masses of 
society, on all sides, have hitherto scarcely been 
blessed by a ray of genuine illumination ; moreover, 



MOTIVES OF THE WORK. 13 

there is in our own country, and in every country of 
Europe, a numerous middle class, whose progress in 
knowledge is of that sort which, while it fails to insure 
moderation or control of the passions, renders the mind 
only so much the more susceptible of imaginative ex- 
citements. Torpor, it is true, has to a great extent 
been dispelled from the European social system ; but 
who shall say in what manner, or to what purposes, 
the returning powers of life shall be employed ? In 
now looking upon the populace of the civilized world, 
such as the revolutionary excitements of the last fifty 
years have made it, one might fancy to see a crea- 
ture of gigantic proportions just rousing itself, after a 
long trance, and preparing to move and act among the 
living. But, what shall be its deeds, and what its 
temper? — The most opposite expectations might be 
made to appear reasonable. Every thing favourable 
may be hoped for; — whatever is appalling may be 
feared. At least we may affirm that the belief enter- 
tained by some, that great agitations may not again 
produce great excesses ; or that egregious delusions 
may not once more, even on the illuminated field of 
European affairs, draw after them, as in other ages, 
myriads of votaries, rests upon no solid grounds of 
experience or philosophy, and will be adopted only by 
those who judge of human nature from partial or tran- 
sient aspects, or who think that the frivolous incidents 
of yesterday and to-day afford a sufficient sample of 
all Time. 

But a persuasion of this sort, founded on the spread 
of intelligence, whether secular or religious, seems 
faulty in another manner — namely, in attributing to 
knowledge, of either kind, more influence than it is 
actually found to exert over the passions and the ima- 
gination of the bulk of mankind. Education does 
indeed produce, in full, its proper eflfect to moderate 
the emotions, and as a preservative against delusion, 
in cold, arid, and calculating spirits ; and it exerts also, 
in a good degree, the same sort of salutary influence 

3 



/ 

14 FANATICISM. 

over even the most turbulent or susceptible minds, up 
to that critical moment when the ordinary counter- 
poise of reason is overborne, and when some para- 
mount motive gains ascendancy. This sudden over- 
throw of restraining principles — an overthrow to 
which sanguine and imaginative temperaments are 
always liable, is not often duly allowed for when it is 
attempted to forecast the course of human affairs. — 
We form our estimate of moral causes according to 
that rate of power at which we observe them now to 
be moving ; but fail to anticipate what they shall be- 
come, perhaps the next instant, that is to say, when 
existing restraints of usage or feeling have been burst 
asunder. 

The rush of the passions, on such occasions, is im- 
petuous, just in proportion to the force that may have 
been overthrown ; and whatever has given way before 
the torrent goes forward to swell the tide. There 
are those who, from their personal history, might con- 
firm the truth that, when they have fallen, their fall 
was aggravated, not softened, by whatever advantages 
they possessed of intelligence or sensibility. And it is 
especially to be observed that, when the balance of 
the mind has once been lost, the power of intelligence 
or of knowledge to enhance the vehemence of malig- 
nant emotions, or to exaggerate preposterous conceits, 
is immeasurably greater on occasions of general ex- 
citement, or of public delusion, than in the instance of 
private and individual errors. Whence in fact does 
knowledge draw the chief part of its controlling force 
over the mind, but from the susceptibility it engenders 
to the opinions of those around us ? In entering the 
commonwealth of intelligence do we not come under 
an influence that will probably out-measure the acces- 
sion we may make of personal power? It is only on 
particular occasions that we regulate our conduct, or 
repress the violence of passion by self-derived infer- 
ences from what we know ; while ordinarily and al- 
most unconsciously, we apply to our modes of action 



MOTIVES OF THE WORK. 15 

and to our sentiments, those general maxims that float 
in the society of which we are members. If every 
man''s personal intelligence absolutely governed his 
behaviour, the empire of knowledge would indeed be 
much more firm than it is, because truth would take 
effect at all points of the surface of society, instead of 
touching only a few. But this not being the fact, 
whatever blind impulse awakens the passions of man- 
kind affects all, individually, in a degree that bears 
little relation to the individual intelligence of each. 
The movements of a community when once excited, 
are far more passionate and less rational, than an 
estimate of its average intelligence might lead us to 
expect. 

If it be so, it must happen that when once a turn is 
made in the general tendency of men's feelings — when 
once a certain order of sentiment, or a certain course 
of conduct has come to be authenticated ; — if, for 
example, some dark, cruel, or profligate rule of 
policy is assented to as necessary or just, all men in 
particular, in yielding themselves to the stream of 
affairs, will plunge into it with an impetuosity propor- 
tioned to their personal intelligence and energy of 
mind. Every man in assenting to the general conclu- 
sion, because assented to by others, would strengthen 
himself and others, in the common purpose, by all 
those means of knowledge and powers of argu- 
ment which he possessed. If the error or extrava- 
gance had been his own, exclusively, his faculty and 
furniture of mind would have been employed in defend- 
ing himself from the assaults of other men's good 
sense ; and human nature does not, under such circum- 
stances, often accumulate such force. — But the same 
faculties moving forward with the multitude, on a 
broad triumphant road, swell and expand and possess 
themselves of the full dominion of the soul. 

At this present moment of general indifference the 
breaking forth of any species of fanaticism may seem 
highly improbable. We ought however to look be- 



16 FANATICISM. 

yond to-day and yesterday ; — we should survey the 
general face of history, and should inspect too the 
depths of the human heart, and calculate the power of 
its stronger passions. — Disbelief is the ephemeron of 
our times ; but disbelief, far from being natural to man, 
can never be more than a reaction that comes on, as a 
faintness, after a season of credulity and superstition. 
And how soon may a revulsion take place ! How soon, 
after the hour of exhaustion has gone by, may the 
pleasurable excitements of high belief and of unbounded 
confidence be eagerly courted ! — courted by the vulgar 
in compliance with its relish of whatever is pungent 
and intense ; — courted by the noble as a means, or as 
a pretext of power; — courted by the frivolous as 
a relief from lassitude ; and by the profound and 
thoughtful, as the proper element of Riinds of that 
order ! 

Whenever the turn of belief shall come round (we 
are not here speaking of a genuine religious faith) 
empassioned sentiments, of all kinds, will follow with- 
out delay : nor can any thing less than a revival of 
Christianity in its fullest force then avail to ward off 
those excesses of fanaticism and intolerance, and spiritual 
arrogance which heretofore have raged in the world* 
The connexion of credu-Ity with virulence is deep 
seated in the principles of human nature, and it should 
not be deemed impertinent or unseasonable at any 
time to attempt to trace to its origin this order of sen- 
timents, or to lay bare the fibres of its strength : — 
unless indeed, we will profess to think that man is nQ 
more what once he was. 



SECTION II. 



THE MEANING OF TERMS RISE OP THE MALIGN 

EMOTIONS. 

Every term, whether popular or scientific, which may 
be employed to designate the affections or the indivi- 
dual dispositions of the human mind, is more or less 
indeterminate, and is liable to many loose and im- 
proper extensions of the sense which a strict definition 
might assign to it. This disadvantage — the irremediable 
grievance of intellectual philosophy, has its origin in 
the obscurity and intricacy of the subject ; and is be- 
sides much aggravated by the changing fashions of 
speech, which neither observe scientific precision, nor 
are watched over with any care. — Men speak not 
entirely as they think ; but as they think and hear ; and 
in what relates to things impalpable few either think 
or hear attentively. All ethical and religious phrases, 
and those psychological terms which derive their 
specific sense from the principles of religion, besides 
partaking fully of the above-named disparagements, 
common to intellectual subjects, labour under a peculiar 
inconvenience, not shared by any others of that class. 
For if the mass of men are inaccurate and capricious 
in their mode of employing the abstruse portion of 
language, they entertain too often, in what relates to 
religion, certain capital errors — errors which ordinarily 
possess the force and activity of virulent prejudices, 
and which impart to their modes of speaking, not in- 
distinctness indeed, but the vivid and positive colours 
of a strong delusion. 

3* 



18 



FANATICISM. 



It is not the small minority of persons soundly 
informed in matters of religion, that gives law to the 
language of a country ; — or even if it did, this class is 
not generally qualified, by habits or education, to fix 
and authenticate a philosophical nomenclature. From 
these peculiar disadvantages it inevitably follows that 
when, by giving attention to facts, we have obtained 
precise notions on subjects of this sort, or at least 
have approximated to truth, it will be found imprac- 
ticable to adjust the result of our inquiries to the 
popular and established sense of any of the terms 
which may offer themselves to our option. The mass 
of mankind, besides their backwardness always to 
exchange a loose and vague, for a definite and 
restricted notion, do not fail to descry, in any defini- 
tion that is at once yjhilosophical and religious, some 
cause of oflfence. — The new-sharpened phrase is felt 
to have an edge that wounds inveterate prejudice, and 
rankles in the heart ; and the writer who is seen to 
be thus w^hetting afresh his words, is deemed to 
entertain a hostile purpose, and is met with a corres- 
pondent hostility. Nor is much more favour to be 
looked for from the religious classes who, always 
alarmed at the slightest change in venerable modes of 
speech, will scent a heresy in every such definition. 

If then new terms are not to be created (a pro- 
cedure always undesirable) and if the intolerable 
inconvenience of a ponderous periphrasis is also to be 
avoided, the best that can be done, amid so many 
diflficulties, is to select a phrase which, more nearly 
than any other (of those commonly in use) conveys 
the notion we have obtained ; and then to append a 
caution, explicit or implied, against the misunder- 
standings to which the writer, from the peculiar 
circumstances of the case, is exposed. 

In the instance of every term connected with 
religious principles or modes of feeling, there must of 
course be admitted a far wider departure from the 
etymological or ancieiit, than from the modern and 



THE MEANING OF TERMS. 19 

popular sense they bear. If the recent and vulgar 
meaning of such phrases be incorrect, or delusive, 
how much more so must be the remote and original 
meaning ! — Whither does the etymon carry us, but to 
altogether a foreign region of thought ? In matters of 
religion a revolution has taken place, upon all lettered 
nations, which, while it leaves human nature the same, 
has imparted a new substance, a new form, and a 
new relative position, to every notion that respects 
Invisible Power, and human conduct. 

Preposterous therefore would be the pedantry of a 
writer who, in discoursing, for example, of Supersti- 
tion, or Enthusiasm, should confine himself to such a 
definition of those terms as might comport with the 
sense they bore, centuries ago, in the minds of Lucian, 
Plutarch, Epictetus, or Aristotle ! Even many of the 
less fluctuating ethical abstractions have dropped 
almost the whole of their primeval significance in the 
course of ages. Is Justice, in the sense of an Athenian 
populace, or in the sense of the " Senate and People 
of Rome," the justice either of English law, or of 
English opinion? Has the Virtue of Sparta much 
analogy with the virtue of Christian ethics ? Where, 
in modern times (except indeed among the slave- 
holders of Republican America) where shall we find 
a meaning of the word Liberty which has even a 
remote resemblance to the sense attached to it by the 
ferocious lords of miserable Lacedaemonian helots ? 

The passions of man are permanent ; but the dif- 
ference between polytheism and true theology — how 
much soever true theology may in any instance be 
encumbered or obscured, is so vast, as to leave 
nothing that belongs to the circle of religious emotion 
unchanged. 

Thus it is that the Fanatic of the Grecian and 
Roman writers is hardly, if at all, to be recognized as 
predecessor of the Fanatic of Christendom ; and 
although, for purposes of illustration, or of mere curi- 
osity, we may hereafter glance (once and again) at 



20 FANATICISM. 

some of the ancient and long-obsolete forms of 
religious extravagance, it is with the modern species 
(practical inferences being our prime object) that we 
shall, in the following pages, chiefly be conversant. 

In a former instance (Natural History of Enthu- 
siasm) the author was not insensible of the disadvan- 
tage he laboured under in adopting a phrase which 
perhaps more than any other (the one he has now to 
do with excepted) is employed in every imaginable 
diversity of meaning, and to which, in truth, every 
man, as he utters it, assigns a sense that reflects his 
his personal rate of feeling in matters of religion. 
One man's Enthusiasm being only another man's 
Sobriety. Before such diversities can be harmonised 
not only must mankind be taught to think with pre- 
cision, but must come also to an agreement on the 
great principles of piety. 

Discordances, still more extreme, belong to the 
popular senses of the word Fanaticism ; for inas- 
much as it takes up a more pungent element than the 
term Enthusiasm, it commonly draws some special 
emphasis from the virulence or prejudices of the 
mouth whence it issues: — the word is the favourite 
missile of that opprobrious contempt wherewith Irre- 
ligion defends itself in its difficult position ; and it is 
hurled often with the indiscriminate vehemence that 
belongs to infuriate fear. The sense attached to a 
term when so employed must of course differ im- 
mensely from that which it bears in the mind of the 
dispassionate observer of mankind, and especially of 
one who takes up the truths of Christianity as the 
best and most certain clew to the philosophy of human 
nature. 

Once for all then, the author requests the reader to 
remember that he is not professing to be either lexico- 
grapher or scholastic disputant ; nor does he assume 
it as any part of his business to adjust the nice propri- 
eties of language ; but aims rather, on a very impor- 
tant subject, to make himself understood, while he des- 



THE MEANING OF TERMS. 21 

cribes a certain class of pernicious sentiments, which 
too often have been combined with rehgious behef In 
another volume spurious and imaginative religious 
emotions were spoken of: our present task is to des- 
cribe the various combinations of the same spuri- 
ous PIETISM with the Malign Passions. 

After quite rejecting from our account that oppro- 
brious sense of the word Fanaticism which the viru- 
lent calumniator of religion and of the religious assigns 
to it, it will be found, as we believe, that the elemen- 
tary idea attaching to the term in its manifold applica- 
tions, is that o^ fictitious fervour in religion, rendered 
turbulent, morose or rancorous, by junction with some 
one or more of the unsocial emotions. Or if a defini- 
tioti as brief as possible were demanded, we should 
say, that Fanaticism is Enthusiasm inflamed by 
Hatred, 

A glance at the rise and rea^Ori of the irascible 
emotions will facilitate our future progress. Our sub- 
ject being an instance of the combination of these 
emotions with other principles, we ought distinctly to 
have in view the elements ; and to note also some of 
their coalescent forms. 

The difficulty that attends analysis in the science of 
mind (science so called) belongs in a peculiar manner 
to those instances in which we endeavour to trace the 
the original construction of passions or impulses that 
scarcely ever present themselves otherwise than in an 
exaggerated and corrupted condition. It is u^ual if 
an object of philosophic curiosity be obscure or evan- 
escent, to single out for examination the most marked 
examples of the class. But to take this course in an 
analysis of the passions is to seek for primitive ele- 
ments where most they have lost their original form, 
and have suffered the most injury. 

What the contour and symmetry of the moral form 
was, as it came from the hand of the Creator, may be 
more readily determined in the dry method of ethical 
definition, than vividly conceived of; and this is espe- 



22 



PANATICISM. 



cially true of those emotions which imply the presence 
of evil. How delicate is the task — if indeed it be a 
practicable one, to trace the line between nature (in 
the best sense) and deformity — between the true and 
false, in these instances ! And yet, not the most ran- 
corous or foul of the malign sentiments can be thought 
any thing else than a disordered state of .'ome power 
indispensable to the constitution of a rational and inde- 
pendent agent. We need then take care lest, in our 
haste to condemn what is evil, we should denounce as 
such that of which God himself is author, and which, 
if we think closely, cannot even be conceived of as 
altogether wanting in a being placed where maii m 
placed 

Within a certain line there can however be no dif^ 
iiculty in deciding between good and evil. It is quite 
obvious that a passion or appetite, subservient to some 
specific purpose, is in an irregular state when it over- 
passes or fails to secure that purpose ; — the end must 
give law to the means ; and where the end may clearly 
be defined, the limit which the means should reach is 
not hard to ascertain. Either by Excess and too great 
intensity — or by Perversion, or misdirection from 
their proper object — or by Prolongation from mo- 
mentary impulses to habits and permanent qualities, 
as well the animal appetites as the irascible passions 
assume a pernicious form, and derange the harmony 
of nature. 

Which of the emotions or desires is it that may 
justly claim to be not subservient, but paramount, and 
may therefore safely be prolonged, and impart them- 
selves as qualities to the mind. Nature distinctly in- 
forms us, by rendering them always agreeable ; while 
some uneasiness, or even positive pain, is attached to 
the continuance of every one of those feelings which, 
in her intention, are only to measure out a moment- 
ary occasion, and which ought to rise and disappear 
in the same hour. 

It is thus, we need hardly say, with the bodily appe- 



RISE OF THE MALIGN PASSIONS. 23 

tites, which disturb the system (as well corporeal as 
mental) whenever they do more than accomplish their 
definite purpose. Indispensible as these impulses are 
to the machinery of life, they take a noxious quality 
when they are detained : their property should be to 
evaporate without residuum. Each, moreover, has its 
specific object, and throws every other function into 
disorder if it become fastidious ; and each too must 
observe its due amount of force. 

The same is true of all forms of the irascible emo- 
tions, and which never go beyond their purpose, 
and especially can never pass into dispositions, with- 
out vitiating the character. Each single instance 
of excessive excitement contributes, shall we say, the 
whole amount of its excess to the formation of a habit 
of the same class ; and then these habits — emotions 
parted from their occasions, soon run into some sort of 
perversion, or become misdirected. Unoccupied de- 
sire strays from its path, and attaches itself perni- 
ciously to whatever objects it may meet. It is thus 
that human nature subsides into the most corrupted 
states. A certain mode of feeling is generated, of the 
utter unreasonableness of which the mind is dimly 
conscious, and to rid itself of the uneasy sense of 
being absurd, rushes on towards sentiments still more 
preposterous, that by their aid it may quite surround 
itself with false impressions, and lose all recollection 
of calm truths. As there is an intoxication of the 
animal appetites, so is there an intoxication of the ma- 
lign passions ; and perhaps if we could completely ana- 
lyse some extreme instance of dark and atrocious hatred 
■ — hatred when it constitutes the fixed condition of the 
soul, we should find that the miserable being has 
become what he is by the impulse of a perpetual 
endeavour to drown self-reproach and inward con- 
tempt, in deeper and deeper draughts of the cup of 
poison. 

Up to that point where the subordinate principles of 
our nature become transmuted into permanent quali- 



24 FANATICISM. 

ties, imparting a character to the mind, it is easy to 
discern their reason and propriety as constituents of 
the physical and moral life : nor can we fail to per- 
ceive that each is attended with a provision for restrain- 
ing it within due limits. Thus it is, as we have said, 
that while the machinery of animal life is impelled by 
the sense of pleasure which is attached to the brief 
activity of the appetites, an admonitory uneasiness 
attends the excessive indulgence or protracted excite- 
ment of them. Consistently with this same regard to 
ulterior purposes, the irascible emotions in ihe'ir native 
state, are denied any attendant pleasurable sense ; 
or at most so small an element of pleasure belongs to 
them, that the pain consequent upon their excess or 
their continuance is always paramount. The dash of 
gratification, if there be any, does but give momentary 
life to the rising energy, and then passes off. 

The irascible passions can be allowed to have respect 
to nothing beyond the preservation of life, or of its 
enjoyments, in those unforeseen occasions when no 
other means but an instantaneous exertion of more 
than the ordinary force, both of body and mind, and 
especially of the latter, could avail for the purpose 
of defence : — anger is the safeguard of beings not 
housed, like the tortoise, within an impenetrable crust ; 
and if man had been born cased in iron, or were an 
ethereal substance, he would probably have been 
furnished with no passionate resentments. Neverthe- 
less every good purpose of such emotions has been 
answered when the faculties have received that degree 
and kind of stimulus which the exigency of the mo- 
ment demanded ; and their continuance must be 
always (if it were nothing worse) a waste and a perver- 
sion of power ; since the conservative ends they may 
seem to have in view are far more certainly secured 
by other means when the sudden peril is gone by. 
Malign dispositions and vindictive habits are, shall we 
say, miserable encumbrances of the mind ; as if a 
man would sustain the load of bulky armour, night 



THE MEANING OF TERMS. 25 

and day, and carry shield and lance, though probably 
he will not encounter a foe once in the year. The 
checks of opinion, the motives of mutual interest ; and 
at last the provisions of law, and the arm of the body 
politic, are in readiness to defend us from every 
aggression, those only excepted which must be re- 
pelled at the instant they are made, or not at all. 

That brisk excitement of the faculties which a sud- 
den perception of danger occasions, not merely bears 
proportion to the nearness and extent of the peril, but 
has a relation to its- quality and its supposed origin. 
This excitement, to answer its end, must possess an 
affinity with the aggressive cause. The repellant 
power must be such as is the assailant power. A quick 
sympathy with the hostile purpose of an antagonist 
belongs to the emotion at the impulse of which we are 
to withstand his attack. Simple ear, and its attendant 
courage, are enough if the danger we have to meet 
arises from material causes only ; or if a mechanical 
injury is all that is thought of. But anger, and the 
courage peculiar to anger, is called up when mind con- 
tends with MIND, that is to say, when an injury is to 
be warded off which (whether truly so or not) we 
believe to spring from the inimical intention of a being 
like ourselves. In this case matter and its properties 
are forgotten, or are thought of as the mere instru- 
ments of the threatened harm, while we rouse our- 
selves to grapple, soul against soul with our foe. 

For the very same reason that some knowledge, 
more or less accurate, of the laws of matter (whether 
acquired by the methods of science, or by common 
experience) is indispensable as our guide in avoiding or 
repelling physical evils, so is an intuition of motives 
necessary to our safety when it is a hostile purpose 
that originates the danger we are exposed to. Suc- 
cessfully to resist an impending harm, we must rightly 
conceive of its occult cause. 

There may be those who would ask — "Why should 
we suppose these irascible emotions, liable as they are 

4 



26 FANATICISM. 

to abuse, and destructive as they often become, to be 
original ingredients of our nature ; or why needs man 
be furnished with any impulses more potent or com- 
plex than those given him as a defence against physical 
injuries ? " The answer is not difficult. — An additional 
motive and a more vigorous spring is needed in the 
one case which is not requisite in the other, because 
the danger in the one is of a far more recondite qual- 
ity than in the other, and demands a commensurate 
provision. If, for our safety, w^e must know to what 
extent, at what distances, and under what conditions, 
fire may destroy or torment us ; we must, for a like 
reason, know the nature, extent, and conditions of the 
harm that may arise from the rage of a furious man. 
Now it does not appear that the extreme exigency of 
the moment could be met in any way so efficaciously 
— if at all, as by this sudden sympathy with the ill 
intention of our enemy — a sympathy which, as by a 
flash of consciousness, puts us into possession of his 
evil purpose. The rage or the malice of the aggressor, 
thus reflected (if dimly yet truly) upon the imagination 
of whoever is its object, informs him with the rapidity 
of lightning, of all he should prepare himself to meet. 
May we not properly admire the simplicity and the 
fitness of this machinery ? 

It is quite another question, and one which does 
not now press upon us — Whence comes that first 
malignant purpose or hostile intention against which 
the irascible emotions are provided ? Evil existing as 
it does, we are here concerned only with the arrange- 
ment made for repelling it. Let it then be remember- 
ed, that inasmuch as the hostile powers of mind are 
far more pernicious, because more various, insidious 
and pertinacious than those of matter (which can 
move only in a single direction) there is required more 
motive and more energy to resist them. Now this 
necessary accession of power is, might we say, bor- 
rowed for the moment when it is wanted, by sympathy 
from the aggressor. He who rises in fatal rage upon 



RISE OF THE MALIGN EMOTIONS. 



27 



his fellow, does, by the contrivance of nature, and at 
the very instant of his violent act, put into the hand of 
his victim a w^eapon that may actually avert the stroke. 
The vicious and exaggerated condition in which these 
passions usually present themselves (a condition acci- 
dental, not necessary) should not prevent our assign- 
ing to the wisdom and benignity of the Creator what 
conspiciously exhibits both. And surely it is becom- 
ing to us to rescue (if so we may speak) the praise of 
the Supreme in those instances where most it is ob- 
scured by the evils that have supervened upon his 
work. 

Yet all we see around us of the wisdom and bene- 
volence of the Author of Nature, especially as dis- 
played in the constitution of the sentient orders, would 
stand contradicted if it appeared that passionate resent- 
ments were otherwise than painful.* In fact we do 
not find them to be entertained as modes of gratifica- 
tion until after they have gone into the unnatural con- 
dition of permanent qualities ; and even then the 
gratification, if such it can be called, is wrung out 
from the very torments of the heart. When indeed 
these dark emotions have formed alliance with ima- 
ginative sentiments, they at once lose a portion of their 
virulence, and borrow a sense of pleasure, which may 
become very vivid. Some remarkable cases of this 
sort our proper subject will lead us to consider. 

There is, however, an instance that may seem to be 
at variance with our assumptions ; and it is one which 
should be fairly looked at. Of what sort then is the 
pleasure of consummated revenge ; and whence does 
it spring I — or must we trace it to the original consti- 
tution of the mind ? To answer such a question we 
should go back to the elements of the moral sense. — 
Let it then be remembered that this sense, indispen- 
sable as it is to rational agency and to responsibility, 
Implies, not only a consciousness of pleasure in the 

* ' ^ ■ "^-■^"-o ^^ ooyy) "TPoia^) tt^?, •n'o/eT XvTrouf^tvo^. 



28 



FANATICISM. 



view of what is good, benign, and generous ; but an 
equal and correspondent feeling (necessarily painful) 
towards the opposite qualities, whether of single 
actions or of character. We cannot so much as form 
a conception of a moral sense that should possess one 
of these faculties apart from the other: — as well 
suppose the eye to be percipient of light, but uncon- 
scious of darkness. The power of approval is a nullity^ 
if it do not involve a power of disapproval and disgust. 
What sort of languid and vague instinct were it, 
which, though capable of high delight in the contem- 
plation of virtue and beneficence, should look listlessly 
and without emotion upon the infliction of wanton 
torture, or upon acts of injustice, fraud, or impurity? 
We may indeed imagine a world into which no evils 
and no discords or deformities should gain admission ; 
but it is impossible to conceive of sentient beings en- 
dowed with faculties of pleasure, such as should in- 
volve no power of suffering. Whoever would be 
capable of exalted happiness must undergo the possi- 
bility of misery, equally intense ; or if the power of 
enjoyment be greater than the power of suffering, the 
whole amount of the difference is just so much torpor, 
or so much relaxation. A sense or faculty may indeed 
be numbed or paralyzed ; but although such damage 
should secure an exemption from pain, no one would 
boast of it as a natural perfection. 

The sense of fitness, whence arises our acquiescence 
in retributive proceedings, as well penal as remunera- 
tive, implies, an uneasiness not to be dismissed, or even 
an intense consciousness of pain, so long as merited 
punishment is diverted, or delayed, or its ultimate 
arrival is held in doubt. Few emotions, perhaps none, 
are more racking than that which attends the indeter- 
minate delay of righteous retribution. And then, as 
every faculty of pleasure involves a liability to pain, 
so does a sudden release from pain, mental or bodily, 
bring with it a sensation which, if we must hesitate to 



RISE OF THE MALIGN E3I0TI0NS. 29 

call it pleasure, it will be hard to designate at all. — 
Thus the extreme uneasiness that attends the delay of 
retribution, is, when at length relieved by the infliction 
of due punishment, followed by an emotion (very 
transient in benignant mJnds) which, if it may not be 
called pleasurable, must remain undescribed. We 
have onlv to add that, as the exa^yo-erations of self- 
love render the common desire of retribution intense 
— shall we say intolerable, if self be the sufferer, so, 
and in the same degree, will the pleasurable sense of 
relief be enhanced when, after a doubtful delay, ample 
retribution alights on its victim. — The continuance, or 
the brief duration of this malign gratification might 
well be taken as a guage of the nobility or baseness of 
the mind that entertains it. — If a generous spirit ad- 
mits at all any such emotion, it will refuse to give it 
lodgement longer than a moment, and will gladly re- 
turn to sentiments of compassion and forgiveness. On 
the contrary, a mind, by disposition and habit ranco- 
rous, derives from an achieved revenge a sweetness 
not soon spent, and which is resorted to year after 
year as a cordial. 

So jealous is Nature of her constitutions that she 
rigorously visits every infringement of them. — To re- 
volve or entertain any desire at a distance from its 
due occasion, and in the absence of its fit object, is 
alv/ays to undergo some degree of corruption of the 
faculties — a corruption which, if not checked, spreads 
as a canker even through the powers of animal life. 
All kinds of introverted mental action, even of the 
most innocent sort, are more or less debilitating to 
both mind and body, and trebly so when attended by 
powerful emotions. Might it not be said that health — 
both animal and intellectual, is Emanative movement, 
or a progression from the centre, outwards : and is not 
disease a movement in the reverse direction ? Assu- 
redly those vices are the most destructive, the most 
rancorous, and the most inveterate, which are pecu- 

4* 



30 FANATICISM^ 

liarly meditative, or the characteristic of which is 
rumination. 

By extending themselves beyond their immediate 
occasion, the irascible passions are quickly converted 
from acts into habits. — ^Thus anger becomes petulance 
or hatred : — v^^rath slides into cruelty ; disgust into 
moroseness ; dislike into envy ; and at last the whole 
course of nature is " set on fire ;" or worse — undergoes 
the tortures of a slow and smothered combustion. 

The transition of the passions from momentary 
energies to settled dispositions, does not advance far 
(much less does it reach its completion) without the 
aid of what may be termed a reverberative process^ 
not very difficult to be traced. — That quick sympathy 
which vivifies the impressions of anger, by attributing 
an ill intention to him who assails us, accompanies;, 
and even in a higher degree, the same class of feelings 
in their transmuted form of permanent sentiments. A 
malign temper imputes to an adversary, not a momen- 
tary hostility ; but an evil nature and a settled animo- 
sity like its own. The supposition takes its measure 
and its quality from the sentiment whence it springs ; 
and as the irascible emotion has now^ become a con- 
stant mood of the mind, so is malignant character 
made over and assigned to whoever is its object. Evil 
passions at this stage, are fast attaining their maturity, 
and fail not soon to gain absolute mastery over the 
soul. The meditation of evil abroad, inflames evil at 
home : the infatuated being in idea challenges its ad- 
versary to take a lodgement even within the palpita- 
ting ramparts of the heart, so that the conflict may go 
on as an intestine war at all hours, and in all seasons :. 
— night does not part the combatants ; nay rather is 
it then that, like other savage natures which stalk forth 
from their lairs in the dark, envenomed hatreds (while 
children of peace are sleeping) wake up, and rend 
their prey. 

If anger be simply painful, hatred involves the very 
substance of misery. How should it then, we may 



RISE OF THE MALIGN EMOTIONS. 32 

ask, subsist in the human mind, the first instinct of 
which is the desire of happiness? Strong as is this 
instinct, it takes effect only under certain conditions. 
« — There are circumstances which impel us to hold 
even our love of enjoyment in abeyance, or which 
make us refuse to taste the least gratification until the 
disturbance of feeling that has happened is adjusted. 
Do not minds of a sensitive order repel every solicita- 
tion of pleasure so long as one beloved suffers ; and 
this, even when the object of fondness is far distant, 
and quite beyond the reach of any active service ? — ■ 
The happiness of those we love, if indeed we be capa- 
ble of love, is an indispensable condition of our own. — ^ 
And there are other necessary conditions of personal 
peace, and some so inseparable from hunian nature 
that they can never be evaded. Of these we have 
already mentioned that which belongs to the Retribu- 
tive sentiment, and which forbids us to rest while the 
author of a wrong enjoys impunity. 

A sort of fascination leads on the tortured soul that 
is the victim of these feelings in a double line ; on the 
one hand it eagerly pursues its desire of revenge ; and 
on the other, labours with indefatigable zeal to estab- 
lish its own conviction of the malignant nature of its 
adversary. In its efforts to obtain this double satis- 
faction, it revolves hourly all evidences, real or ima- 
ginary, of the innate atrocity of its foe ; for if this point 
were but fully settled, self would be cleared of the 
imputation of wrong, and the arrival of retribution 
would seem so much the more probable. But far 
from reaching a definite conclusion of this sort, with 
which it might rest satisfied, and so return to the 
common enjoyments of life, the racked spirit feels 
from day to day that the very cogitation of its doubt 
only enhances the motives that give it force. Inflamed 
and insatiate, the distracted being returns ever and 
again to the salt stream that, at every draught, ag- 
gravates its thirst ! In this fever of the heart the as- 



S9 FANATICISM. 

suagement of the inward torment by the destruction 
of its adversary, is the only happiness it can think of. 

And yet even the most extreme and deplorable 
instances that could be adduced of the predominance 
of the malignant passions, would serve to attest, at 
once the excellence of the original constitution of 
human nature, and the indestructible property of its 
moral instincts. Not the most furious or irascible of 
men can indulge his passion until after he has attribu- 
ted an ill intention to the object of his wrath. To be 
angry with that which is seen and confessed to be in- 
noxious or devoid of hostile feeling, is a reach of malig- 
nity that lies beyond the range of human passions, even 
when most corrupted or most inflamed. How else 
can we account for the absurd use which the angry man 
makes of the prosopopisia when he happens to be hurt, 
torn or opposed by an inanimate object : — the stone, 
the steel, the timber, which has given him a fall, or 
has obstructed his impatience, he curses on the liypoth- 
esis' that it is conscious and inimical : — nay, he would 
fain breathe a soul into the senseless mass, that he 
might the more reasonably revile and crush it. 

And so, when hatred has become the settled tem- 
per of the mind, there attends it a bad ingenuity, 
which puts the worst possible construction upon the 
words, actions, looks of the abhorred object. Yet why 
is this but because the laws of the moral system for- 
bid that any thing should be hated but what actually 
deserves, or is at the moment thought to deserve ab- 
horrence ? The most pernicious and virulent heart 
has no power of ejecting its venom upon a fair sur- 
face ; — it must slur whatever it means to poison. To 
hate that which is seen and confessed to be not wicked, 
is as impossible as to be angry with that which is not 
assumed to be hostile. And the most depraved souls, 
whose only element is revenge, feel the stress of this 
Tiecessity not a whit less than the most benign and 
virtuous. Whether the universe any where contains 
spirits so malignant as to be capable of hating without 



RISE OF THE MALIGN PASSIONS. 33 

assignment of demerit, or attributing of ill purpose to 
their adversary, we know not ; but certainly man 
never reaches any such frightful enormity.* 

What is the constant style of the misanthrope ? — 
What the burden of the dull echoes that shake the 
damps from the roof of his cavern ? Is not his theme 
ever and again — the malignity, the cruelty, the false- 
ness of the human race ? To hate mankind is indeed 
his rule ; but yet he must calumniate before he can 
detest it. Nature is here stronger than corruption, 
and a tribute is borne to the unalterable principles of 
virtue, even by those unnatural lips that breathe uni- 
versal imprecations ! How does the solitary wretcb 
— prisoner as he is of his own malignity, toil from day 
to day in the work of ingenious detraction ! how does 
he recapitulate and refute, untired the thousandth time, 
every alleged extenuation of human frailty or folly l-^— 
How does he strive to justify the bad passion that 
rules him ; — how eagerly does he listen to any new 
proof of his poisonous dogma — That man is altogether 
abominable and ought to be hated ! Inwardly he feels 
the sheer absurdity of perpetual malice, and is always 
defending himself against the accusation of doing im- 
mense wrong to his species. But this very labour and 
this painful ingenuity refutes itself; for if human nature 
were, as he affirms it to be, simply and purely evil, his 
own bosom would not be thus tortured by the endeav- 
our to prove mankind abominable, as a necessary con- 
dition of his malice. Most evident it is that if man were 
not formed to love what is good and follow virtue, he 
would find himself able to hate his fellows without 
first imputing to them wickedness and crimes. 

There might be adduced a still more frightful case 
of malignancy, which, horrid as it is, furnishes the 

*The mere supposition may seem to be a contradiction in terms ; 
that what is not hateful should be hated. But the analysis of emo- 
tions of this sort, if carried on a little further, brings us to some such 
notion as that of malignity separable from an object confessed to b8 
odious, 



34 



FANATICISM. 



very same testimony in favour of the original benign 
structure of the human mind. If there are indeed 
miserable beings that harbour dehberate animosity 
against Him who is worthy of supreme affection, as 
well as reverence, yet this hatred rnust always be pre- 
ceded by blasphemy. In word or in thought, there 
must be charged upon the Sovereign Ruler injustice, 
rigour, malevolence, before impiety can advance a step 
toward its bold and dread climax. Thus does the Su- 
preme Benevolence secure and receive an imphcit 
homage, even from the most envenomed lips ; for why 
should the divine character be impeached, if it were 
not that the fixed laws of the moral world — those very 
laws of which God is author, forbid hatred to exist at 
all (at least in human nature) except on a pretext widch 
is itself drawn from the maxims of goodness? What 
proof can be more convincing than this is, that these 
same maxims, these rules of virtue and benevolence, 
were actually the guiding principles of the creation, 
and must therefore belong as essential attributes to the 
Creator ? If man, by the necessity of his nature, must 
calumniate and blacken whomsoever he would call his 
enemy, is it not because he is so constituted as to detest 
only what he thinks to be evil 1 The fact indeed is 
appalling, that rational agents should any where exist 
who can set themselves in array against the source 
and centre of all perfection. But how much more 
appalling, nay — how horrible a thing v/ere it, to find 
any beings whose nature allowed them to hate the 
Sovereign Goodness without first defaming it 1 

The lower we descend into the depths of the ma- 
lignant passions, the more striking are the proofs we 
meet with of the vigour of the prime principles of the 
moral life. There are, alas ! scarcely any bounds to 
the degree of corruption or depravity which man may 
reach, but corruption or decay is something far less than 
destruction of elements ; and no facts come within our 
sphere of observation which would imply that the orig^ 
inal principles of the rational economy are in any cas^ 



RISE OF THE MALIGN EMOTIONS. 35 

annulled. We have already spoken of the instinct of 
Retribution, or the vehement desire to see wrong vis- 
ited with punishment ; and we discern, in even the 
darkest purpose of revenge nothing more than a par- 
ticular instance of this same instinct, inflamed and 
misdirected by preposterous self-love. No case can 
be more conclusive in proof of this position than the 
revenge of jealousy. When the firmest, and the most 
religious of the social ties has been torn asunder by 
the hand of ruthless lust, and an affection, more sensi- 
tive than any other, is left to bleed and ulcerate in 
open air, the inner structure of the vindictive passion 
may be said to be laid open, and it is seen in what 
way an emotion so violent as to lead to fatal acts, yet 
connects itself with virtuous sentiments, and in fact 
springs from them. The revenge of jealousy seems 
to the injured man to be justified at once by the best 
impulses of our nature, by the express sanction of God, 
by the opinion of mankind, and by the formal institutes 
of society. These authorities, or some of them, lend 
a palliation (deemed almost valid by the common feel- 
ing of men) even to deeds of a murderous kind ; and 
they actually avail to put out of view the exaggera- 
tions which self-love has added to the sense of wrong. 
Thus it is that some, who, in no other case would for a 
moment harbour so hateful and torturing a passion, 
yield to its sway when thus injured, and feel as if uncon- 
demned by even the strictest rules of virtue. It is true 
that principles of conduct of a higher kind are appli- 
cable, as well to this, as to all other instances of injury, 
and are fully adequate to assuage even so extreme a 
vindictive impulse. But whether they are actually 
brought to bear upon it or not, it is certain that the 
revenge of jealousy affords evidence that the elements 
of the moral system are the foundation of even the 
most fatal of the malignant passions, and in their most 
agravated forms. 

Let leave here be taken to draw an inference 
which suggests itself, bearing perhaps upon the future 



36 FANATICISM. 

destinies of man. Does not then the history of human 
nature declare that all other emotions of the soul, as 
well as every inducement of interest or pride, may 
give way, and be borne down by the sovereign desire 
of retribution ? Has not this feeling more than once 
impelled a father to consign his sons to the sword of 
public justice ? Has it not strengthened the arm of a 
man, not murderous in disposition, to drive an assas- 
sin's sword into the heart of his friend ? Has it not 
brought together an armed nation around the w^alls of 
a devoted city, the site of which, after being soaked 
with the blood of men, women, and babes, was to be 
covered with perpetual ruin ? Does not this same 
robust instinct every day sustain the most humane 
minds in discharging the sad duty of conducting a 
fellow-man to death ? We see too, to what a degree 
of phrenzy the common desire of retribution may be 
inflamed by the suggestions of self-love. Now may it 
not be conceived of that an equal intensity of this 
emotion might be obtained by the means of some 
other sentiment than self-love, and by one more firm 
because more sound than the selfish principle ? If so, 
then we have under our actual inspection powers 
which, in a future life^ may be found vigorous enough 
to carry human nature through scenes or through 
services too appalling even to think or speak of. If, 
for example, it were asked — " Is it credible that man, 
his sensibilities being such as they are, should take his 
part, even as spectator, in the final procedures of the 
Divine Government ? " We might fairly reply by 
referring to certain signal instances of the force of the 
vindictive passions, and on the ground of such facts 
assume it as possible that, whoever could go so far, 
might go further still. And this hypothetic inference 
would not be invalidated merely because revenge is 
malign and evil : for although it be so, the fulcrum of 
its powder is nothing else than the unalterable laws of 
the moral world ; we only want therefore a righteous 
motive to supplant the selfish one, and then an equal, 



RISE OP THE MALIGN PASSIONS. 37 

or perhaps a much greater force, would be displayed 
by these same principles. 

If it be allowable to advance to this point, we then 
shall need only one more idea to give distinctness to 
our conception of the retributive processes of the 
future world ; — and it is this — That the infatuations of 
self-love, which, in the present state, defend every 
mind from the application to itself of the desire of 
retribution — in the same manner as the principle of 
animal life defends the vital organs of a body from the 
chemical action of its own caustic secretions — that 
these infatuations, we say, being then quite dispersed, 
the Instinct of Justice — perhaps the most potent of all 
the elements of the spiritual life, shall turn inward 
upon each consciously guilty heart, so that every such 
heart shall become the prey of a reflected rage, intense 
and corrosive as the most virulent revenge ! Whoever 
is now hurrying on without thought of consequences 
through a course of crimes, would do well to imagine 
the condition of a being left without relief to breathe 
upon itself the flames of an insatiable hatred ! 



5- 



SECTION IIL 



ALLIANCE OF THE MALIGN EMOTIONS WITH TUB 
IMAGINATION.* 

If nature denies to the irascible passions any attendant 
sense of pleasure, she absolutely refuses them also, at 
least in their simple state, the power of awakening the 
sympathy, or of exciting the admiration of those who 
witness their ebullition. These harsh elements of the 
moral system must be taken into combination with 
sentiments of a different, and a happier order, and 
must almost be concealed within such sentiments, 
before they can assume any sort of beauty, or appear 

The copiousness of our subject must exclude Whatever does not 
directly conduce to its illustration. Otherwise it would be proper here 
to mention those complex dispositions which spring from the union of 
the malignant passions with the elements of individual character. The 
irascible sentiment, for example, takes a specific form from the pecu- 
liarities of the animal structure. Combined with conscious muscular 
vigour, and a sanguineous temperament, it becomes a stormy rage, 
and constitutes either the bully, or the dread devastator of kingdoms, 
as circumstances may determine. The same irascibility, joined with 
a feeble constitution, begets petulance, in those various forms which 
depend upon the particular seat of debility ; namely, whether it be 
the nervous system — the arterial system — the mesenteric glands — the 
liver, or the stomach ; each of which imparts a peculiarity to the 
temper. An attentive observer of the early developement of character 
will also leave room, in any theory of the passions he may construct, 
for a hitherto unexplored and undefined influence of conformation — 
ought we to say of the brain, or of the 7nind ? How much soever 
(from various motives) any might wish to simplify their philosophy of 
human nature, and especially to exclude from it certain facts which 
give rise to painful perplexities, they can do so only (as we think) by 
refusing to turn the eye toward the real world. 

After receiving their first characteristic from the physical temper- 
ament, the malign emotions next ally themselves with the instinct of 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATIOX. 39 

in splendour. That such combinations do actually 
take placC) and in conformity too with the intentions 
of nature, is true ; but it is true also, that by the very 
means of the mixture, the worse or rancorous element 
is vastly moderated and refined. Let it be granted, 
for example, that wars have often originated in the 
militar\^ ambition and false thirst of glory to which 
certain gorgeous sentiments give an appearance of 
virtue. This may be true, but can we easily estimate 
the degree in which war universally has been softened 
and relieved in its attendant horrors, by the corrective 
influence of these very mixed emotions, extravagant 
and false as they are ? And is it certain that there 
would have been altogether less bloodshed on earth, 
if mere sanguinary rage, and if the cupidity of empire, 
had been left to work their ends alone ? For every 
thousand victims immolated at the altar of martial 
pride, have not ten thousand been rescued by the 
noble and generous usages that have belonged to the 
system of warfare among all civiHzed nations? Surely 
it may be said that, unless the imaginative sentiments 

self-love, and generate either a aullen and obdurate pride, which 
snakes every other being an enemy, as a supposed impugner of rights 
and honours that are its due ; or else (and especially as combined 
with derangement of the hepatic functions) begets a rabid jealousy 
or reptile envy — passions of the most wretched natures ! Our modern 
intellectual science yet wants a term to serve in the place of that 
Iheologico-metaphysic one — the will. Analysis must be pushed a 
little further than it has gone before the deficiency can be well 
supplied. Meanwhile let us say that the mahgn passions have a 
characteristic alliance with " the will " — an alliance if not clearly 
to be distinguished from those it forms with self-love, yet distinct 
«enough to arrest attention. As a single example we might name 
that undefined, and not easily analysed, cruelty or wanton and tran- 
quil delight in torments, bloodshed, and destruction, which has given 
a dread notoriety to some few names in history. In such cases it has 
seemed as if the spontaneous principle would prove its force and its 
independence in the mode that should, more effectively than any 
other, make all men confess it to be free. Instances of malignity 
meet us which are at once too placid to be charged entire upon the 
irascible emotions, and too vague to be accounted for by the induce- 
ments of either selfishness or pride, and which, if they do not declare 
the presence of a determining cause that has no immediate dependence 
Kpon assignable motives, must remain quite unexplained. 



40 FANATICISM. 

had thus blended themselves with the destructive 
passions, the ambition of men vs^ould have been like 
that of fiends, and the human family must long ago 
have suffered extermination. 

Ideas of chivalrous virtue and of royal magnanimity 
(ideas directly springing from the imagination) much 
more than any genuine sentiments of humanity, have 
softened the ferocious pride of mighty warriors. For 
though it may be true that some sparks or rare flashes 
of mere compassion have, once and again, gleamed 
from the bosoms of such men ; yet assuredly if good 
will to their fellows had been more than a transient 
emotion, the sword would never have been their toy. 
But the imaginative sentiments are a middle power, 
in the hands of nature, which, because they may be 
combined more readily than some higher principles 
with the gross and dark ingredients of the humaa 
mind, serve so much the better to chasten or ame- 
liorate what cannot be quite expelled. Except for 
emotions of this order, Alexander would have been as 
Tamerlane ; and Tamerlane as the Angel of Death. 

The beneficial provisions of Nature are especially 
to be observed in one remarkable fact — namely — 
That the alliance of the malign passions with the 
Imagination — an alliance from which the former draw 
both their mitigation, and an extension of their field, 
is not permitted to take place upon the narrow ground 
of self-love. — This fact, for such we deem it, deserves 
to be distinctly noticed. — 

Nothing appears too great, sometimes, to be grasped 
by the conceits of self-importance ; nothing too big^ 
for the stomach of vanity : and yet it is found thai 
the Imagination refuses to yield itself, except for a 
moment, or in a very limited degree, to those excite- 
ments that are drawn from the solitary bosom of the 
individual. Man, much as he may boast himself, is by 
far too poor at home to maintain the expense of his 
own splendid conceptions of personal greatness. Not 
even when he revolves the vast idea of his immortality^ 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATION. 41 

is he able to accumulate the materials of sublimity^ 
without looking abroad and beyond himself, in search 
of objects fitted to quicken the emotions of greatness 
and dignity. And yet surely if any idea, purely selfish, 
had power to call up and sustain such emotions, the 
idea and the hope of endless existence might do so. 
But whenever we meditate upon eternity, and think 
of our own part in it, we dwell much more upon the 
scenes, the personages, and the events it shall connect 
us with, than conceive of ourselves, simply, as destined 
to live for ever. It is no wonder then if this same 
rule holds good, when nothing beyond the present 
scene of things is contemplated. We can hardly err 
in assigning the reason of a mechanism so remarkable. 
— If human nature had been so constituted as that the 
imaginative emotions could have found sufficient range 
within the lone precincts of the soul, and if there had 
been opened to every one (or at least to heroic spirits) 
a world of splendid illusions — such that he should have 
had no need to look abroad, man must have become, 
in a frightful sense, an insulated being ; nor perhaps 
would any other impulse, drawn either from his wants, 
his fears, or his affections, have availed to connect him 
firmly and permanently with his fellows. No concep- 
tion much more appalling can be entertained than that 
of a proud demigod, who, finding an expanse of great- 
ness within his own bosom — an expanse wherein he 
could take ample sweep, and incessantly delight him- 
self, should start off from the populous universe, and 
dwell content in the centre of an eternal solitude ! 

It may well be assumed as probable that the Crea- 
tor has granted to none of his rational family the 
prerogative of so fatal a sort of self-sufficiency. As- 
suredly no such power is granted to man. Even those 
instances that may seem the most nearly to approach 
the idea just now mentioned, do in fact, when accu- 
rately looked at, support the general principle. The 
man of the wilderness, for example, is still a social 
being, though in a very perverted manner ; and we 

5* 



42 FANATICISM, 

should find convincing proof of the fact if we conlJ 
only Hsten to those often rehearsed and monotonous 
soliloquies of which the great world — its noise, its 
vanity, and its corruptions are the theme. Yes, he 
congratulates himself anew every day that mankind 
is far remote from his cell. But why can he not drop 
this reference altogether ? Why not cease to think of 
what he does not see — does not feel ? It is because 
the gloomy and vexed imagination of the solitary — 
spite of itself, can find none but the faintest excite- 
ments within its own circle, and so is driven to roam 
abroad in search of stimulants. The world, we may 
be assured, is as indispensable a material to the enthu- 
siasm of the anchoret, as it is to that of the busiest 
and most ambitious votary of fame. Only let some 
breathless messenger — like those that brought tidings 
of dismay to the Arabian patriarch, reach the cavern 
of the hermit, and announce to him that his love of 
solitude was at length effectively and for ever sealed 
by the utter extinction of the human race : — solitude, 
from that instant, would not merely lose all its fancied 
charms, but would become terrible and insufferable ; 
and this ntan of seclusion, starting like a maniac frona 
his wilderness, would run round the world, in search^ 
if haply it might be, of some straggling survivors ! 

Nor is it a few foreign materials that are enough to 
give effect to the alliance of the imagination with the 
selfish principle. A vigorous enthusiasm must embrace 
a broad field. Thus patrician pride, and the arro- 
gance of illustrious blood must not only go very far 
back, but stretch itself very widely too, before it can 
acquire the alacrity or the force that distinguishes 
imaginative sentiments. The pride of ancestry is a 
sullen grace, and has always about it an air akin to 
melancholy or depression. The enthusiasm of the 
very meanest member of a warrior-clan is tenfold 
more animate than that of the head of a house laden 
with the decorations of heraldry. In the former in- 
stance the imagination grasps the compass of the com- 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATION. 43 

munity of which the individual is a part : in the latter^ 
one slender line, terminating in ^e//*, is all that engages 
the fancy ; and it is in vain, with so attenuated an 
object only in view, that pride chides itself for its dull 
and sluggish movements. The Chief must think of 
Mis people more than of his ancestry, if he would, on 
any special occasion, gain a powerful spring of action. 
In truth it is more as a Chief than as the offspring and 
representative of an illustrious stock, that the energetic 
patrician exults in his distinctions, and achieves deeds 
worthy of the name he bears. 

Martial enthusiasm especially demands the social 
elements as its ground : — and here we reach that very 
compound sentiment which, as to its construction, 
stands immediately parallel with religious rancour and 
Fanaticism. The one species of ardent emotion differs 
from the other more in adjuncts and objects, than in 
innate quality or character. The battle-fury of the 
Clan is only self-love, inflamed by hatred, and ex- 
panded, by aid of the imagination, over the width of 
the community with which the individual consorts. 
It is this envenomed enthusiasm that renders the 
Chief of the horde (as visible centre of all emotions) 
the object of a more zealous and efficient idolatry than 
is offered to the god of the horde : and it is this that 
lends a measure of nobility and importance to even 
the most abject son of the tribe. It is this feeling 
which knits the phalanx, shoulder to shoulder, when 
the marshalled family advances to meet its ancient 
rival in the field. It is this passion — the enthusiasm of 
gregarious rage, that puts contempt upon death, gives 
a brazen firmness to the nerves when torture is to be 
endured, seals the lips in impenetrable secresy when 
a trust has to be preserved ; and, in a word, imparts 
to human nature a terrible greatness which we are 
compelled at once to abhor and to admire. 

What is the clangorous music of barbarous armies 
— what the rhapsodies of their poetry, but the modu- 
lated expressions of a ferocity which the imagination 



44 FANATICISM. 

has already inflamed, ennobled, purified, and softened? 
Shall the frigid philosopher affirm that music and poe- 
try are incentives to the destructive battle passions? 
It is true that they are ; yet take away such incen- 
tives, and man is thrown back upon his mere malig- 
nity, and becomes more dreadful to his species than a 
tiger. 

But the imagination has a limit beyond which it 
does not vigorously act. If it is not, as we have 
said, to be stimulated by ideas merely selfish, it be- 
comes, on the other hand, languid, or ceases to exert 
an efficient influence over the passions, when the field 
of its exercise is very much extended. The men of 
a mighty empire that embraces many and various 
tribes, know little of the intense patriotism or of the 
unconquerable courage that distinguishes the heroes 
of a petty clan, or small community. Self, in this 
case cannot retain its hold of an aggregate so vast ; 
and although the object be immensely greater, the 
motive is incomparably less than in the other instance. 
If it were not that general intelligence and a better 
knowledge of the science of government, and more 
skill in war, ordinarily come in with extended empire 
to supply the place of personal enthusiasm, the history 
of nations would present (in a perpetual series) what 
in fact it has often presented — the destruction or sub- 
jugation of larger social bodies by the smaller. But 
thus is the great polity of mankind balanced : — men 
possess vastly more individual motive, and more spon- 
taneous power, as members of a small than of a large 
community. Meanwhile the greater bodies have at 
command, not only a larger sum of physical force, 
but more knowledge, and principle, and order, than 
often exists in petty states. So it is that the small 
and the great coexist upon the same surface ; and 
that the course of conquest has been alternate — in 
one age a fraction has broken up the mass — in an- 
other the mass has absorbed the fractions. 

It may subserve our purpose to compare still more 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATION. 45 

distinctly the steady martial temper that ordinarily 
belongs to the armies of a great empire, with the 
ferocious or desperate valour that distinguishes the 
warriors of a horde, a canton, or a petty republic. 
The first (extraordinary occasions excepted) is a calm 
perfunctory courage, drawing much more of its mo- 
tive from usage, opinion, and reasons of interest or 
honour, than from the impulse of the malignant pas- 
sions. An accomplished general of such an army 
excludes from his calculation of w^hat may be effected 
by the tremendous engine which he wields, the rage 
or the rancour of the individual combatants. But, on 
the contrary, this very malus animus constitutes the 
principal ingredient in the bravery of the clan ; and 
it does so because the human mind readily admits, 
under these circumstances, of an exaltation, which, 
in the other case, nothing can produce short of the 
most unusual excitements. The irascible passions are 
not to be raised to a height unless self-love, in some 
form, is immediately engaged in a quarrel ; but the 
vast interests of an empire, and the immensity of 
an army that covers a province, and that is never 
seen as a whole, are quite disproportioned to the 
share each individual may have in the public weal. 
And then, as every one of the sentiments that infuse 
generosity into the practice of war, draws much of 
its force from the imagination, they will of course 
exist in the greatest vigour where the imagination is 
the most wrought upon. There are however very 
few minds, or they are minds only of the largest 
capacity and of the finest conformation, that can 
derive the stimulants of a vigorous enthusiasm from 
the idea of an extensive empire. On the other hand, 
few minds are so insensitive as not to entertain a 
degree of such enthusiasm when the various emotions 
of patriotism and civil affection spring up from a 
space that may all be seen at once from the summit 
of a hill. 
And it is on the very same principle, as we shall 



46 FANATICISM. 

find, that Fanaticism must attach itself always ta a 
limited order of things, and is necessarily factious. 
What is fanaticism but rancorous Enthusiasm ? And 
inasmuch as enthusiasm springs from the imagination, 
it must embrace a circle just wide enough to give it 
powerful impulse, and yet not too wide to exhaust its 
forces. 

The valour of the clan not only stands parallel 
with religious fanaticism ; that is to say, has one and 
the same Natural History, but is most often found in 
combination with it. The two classes of passion are 
so nearly allied that the one readily follows upon tho 
other. The vehement patriotism of the horde or little 
free state puts the minds of men into a ferment that 
will not long fail to introduce the stirring conceptions 
of Invisible Power : and when so brought in, the two 
ingredients become intimately blended : — the civil and 
the religious frenzy form a compact sentiment of such 
vivacity as to carry human nature — if the solecism 
might be admitted, above and beyond the range of 
human agency. While the gods have been hovering 
over a field of carnage the intrepidity of men has 
risen to the audacity of immortals ; and their feroci- 
ty has resembled the rage of fiends ! 

Although it may be true, and we confidently assume 
it to be so, that a beneficial mitigation and refinement 
of the grosser elements of our nature accrues from 
their alliance with imaginative sentiments, yet it does 
by no means follow that such sentiments ought to 
supplant the genuine principles of morals, wherever 
these may take effect. No one would maintain such 
a doctrine in the abstract ; nevertheless, when we 
turn to the real world, we find that true virtue and 
piety have always had to contend (and often with 
little success) against those splendid forms of excel- 
lence which are but vice in disguise, and which owe 
all their specious graces and fair colours to the admix- 
ture we are speaking of. 

The unalterable maxims of rectitude, purity and 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATION. 47 

mercy, such as we find them in the Scriptures, being 
well understood and firmly instated in their just author- 
ity, then indeed we may allow the imagination to 
take the part that belongs to it as the general cement — 
or as the common medium of the various ingredients 
of animal, social, and intellectual hfe. There meets 
us however a special difficulty in assigning its proper 
oflSce to this faculty when it comes to mingle itself, as 
it readily does, with the malign emotions ; and this 
embarrassment is much enhanced by those modes of 
feeling which are found to have got possession of 
every lettered people. How large a portion of the 
pleasurable excitement that attends the reading of 
history springs directly from the recommendations 
which vindictive or inexorable passions borrow from 
imaginative emotions ! Then in the world of fiction — 
dramatic or poetic, perhaps half of the power which 
such creations possess over the mind is attributable to 
the same cause. The moralist and the preacher 
(especially when he has to do with the educated 
classes) and if he would discharge his office without 
showing favour to inveterate prejudices, finds that he 
has to loosen many of the most cherished associations 
of sentiment, and must denounce as purely evil very 
much that is passionately admired, and will be eagerly 
emulated. 

To affirm in absolute and exclusive terms that the 
irascible passions ought in no case to be allowed to 
blend with the imagination, so as may fit them to en- 
kindle emotions of pleasure or admiration, would be 
going very far, and might bring an argument into 
serious embarrassments. We stop short then of so 
stern a conclusion, and shall urge only this more gene- 
ral rule, that the principles of benevolence, and of 
forbearance, and meekness, and gentleness, and humil- 
ity, as taught in the discourses of Christ, and as en- 
forced by his apostles, should in all instances to which 
they are clearly applicable, be carried fully home, 
notwithstanding the repugnance of certain modes of 



48 FANATICISM. 

feeling commonly honoured as generous and noble ; 
and moreover that every one professing obedience to 
the Gospel should exercise an especial vigilance to- 
ward that entire class of sentiments over which pro- 
fane history, romance, poetry, and the drama, have 
shed a glory. 

The time perhaps shall come — nay we devoutly 
expect it, when by the universal diffusion of a sound 
and pure Ethics — the ethics of the Bible, no room 
shall be left, no need shall be felt for the chastening 
influence which hitherto the imagination has exerted 
over the ferocious dispositions of mankind. Yes, an age 
shall come, when the gods and heroes of history shall 
hasten to those shades of everlasting forgetfulness 
which have closed upon their patrons — the gods and 
heroes of mythology. In the same day the charm of 
fiction shall be dissolved, and the gaudiness of false 
sentiment, in all kinds, shall be looked at with the cold 
contempt which now we bestow upon the follies of 
false worship. Then too, the romance (as well prac- 
tical as literary) of this nineteenth century shall be 
bound in the bundle that contains the decayed and 
childish fables of olden times, and both together shall 
be consigned, without heed or regret, to sheer ob- 
livion. 

The slow but sure progress of society brings with 
it many substitutions of this sort, in which a less ra- 
tional principle of action gives way to one that is more 
so. .At the present moment we occupy just that mid- 
way position which, while it allows us to gaze with 
idle curiosity upon the blood-stained stage of chivalry, 
and upon the deluged field of lawless ambition, quite 
forbids that any such modes of conduct should find a 
place among us as living realities. We are too wise 
and virtuous to give indulgence to that to which we 
largely give our admiration ! May not yet another 
step or two be taken on the path of reason, and then 
we shall cease even to admire that which we have 
long ceased to tolerate ? 



ALLIANCE WITH THE IMAGINATION. 49 

So already it has actually happened in relation to 
those malign and sanguinary religious excitements 
which a few centuries ago kindled entire communities, 
and inflamed kings and mendicants, nobles and serfs, 
priests and wantons, abstracted monks and the disso- 
lute rabble, with one purpose of sacred ambition. 
Though we now peruse with wonder and curiosity 
the story (for example) of the Crusades, there are 
very few readers in the present day — perhaps hardly 
one, who can rouse up a sympathy with that vehement 
feeling which was the paramount motive of the enter- 
prise. Only let us strip the history of the crusades of 
all its elements of martial and secular glory, and the 
simple religious residue — the proper fanaticism of the 
drama, would scarcely touch any modern imagination. 
How much more is this true of those horrid crusades 
of which the internal enemies of the Church of Rome 
have, at different times, been the victims ! All feeling 
of alliance with the illusions that gave impulse to such 
abhorrent intestine wars has (do we assume too 
much ?) utterly passed away, nor could by any means 
be rekindled ; and the two emotions of pity for the 
sufferers, and of detestation of the actors in the 
scenes of fratricide, are the only sentiments which the 
narrative can call up. Yet there was a time when 
men — born of women, and fashioned like ourselves — 
yes, and men softened by education, and not unin- 
formed by Christianity — saints and doctors, delicate 
recluses, and unearthly contemplatists — men who slept 
only three hours in the twenty-four, and prayed six 
or ten — when such men gave all the passion of their 
souls, and all the eloquence of their lips, to the work 
of hunting thousands of their fellows, innocent and 
helpless, into the greedy fires of the Church ! 

Thus it appears that the very order of sentiment 
which once was allowed and lauded as magnanimous, 
and even divine, we have learned to regard as either 
purely ridiculous, or as abominable. A like reproba- 
tion inevitably awaits (if mankind is really advancing 

6 



50 FANATICISM, 

on the road of virtue) every mode of feeling which, 
being essentially malevolent, draws specious colours 
from the imagination. That which is true and just, in 
conduct and character, must at length supplant what- 
ever, if stripped of its decorations, is loathsome or 
absurd. So certainly as the calm reason of Christian- 
ity spreads ii self through the world, will the ground fall 
in beneath the gorgeous but tottering edifice of spurious 
imaginative virtue. Let but the irresistible process go 
on a little further, and it will become as impracticable 
to uphold in credit the still extant opinion which ad- 
mits of honor without justice or purity, and of mag- 
nanimity without benevolence, and of that thirst of 
glory which is sheer selfishness, as it would be now, 
after the mechanic arts have reached an unthought-of 
perfection, to keep in use the cumbrous hand-machines 
of the last century. 

Much of the conventional law, and many of the 
usages of private life, and especially the unwritten 
code of international policy, have yet to undergo a 
revolution as great perhaps as that which makes the 
difference between the twelfth and the eighteenth 
centuries. All the vices, and all the talents, and all 
the institutions interested in the preservation of cor- 
rupt practices may oppose the advance of this ren- 
ovation ; but nothing short of the overthrow of Chris- 
tianity and of civilization can arrest its progress. Na- 
ture (we use the word in a religious sense) Nature 
is here at work with her noiseless mighty hand ; what- 
ever is spurious is marked already for oblivion, and 
moves on to its home. 



SECTION IV. 



FANATICISM THE OFFSPRING OF ENTHUSIASM ; OR COM- 
BINATION OF THE MALIGN EMOTIONS WITH SPURI- 
OUS RELIGOUS SENTIMENTS. 

The Imagination, when inflamed by anger, or enven- 
omed by hatred, exerts a much more decisive influ- 
ence over the active principles and the character of 
men than otherwise ever belongs to it. Or we might 
rather say, that by the aid of those strenuous elements 
of our nature, imaginative sentiments extend their em- 
pire, and bring under their sway minds of a robust 
order which would never have yielded to any softer 
impulses. A thousand fanatics have run their course 
of mischief who would have spurned religious mo- 
tives altogether in the simple form of enthusiasm. Ran- 
cour has been the true reason of their religion, and its 
rule and end. 

And as the empire of spurious religious sentiments 
is greatly extended by their alliance with the malig- 
nant passions, so do they acquire, from the same quar- 
ter, far more energy than they could boast in their sim- 
ple state. A malign Enthusiasm carries human nature 
to the very extreme boundaries of emotion possible to 
man ; nothing which the heart may know lies beyond 
the circle occupied by fanatical extravagance ; and 
this circle of vehement sentiments includes many enor- 
mities of feeling or of conduct of which scarcely a 
sample is to be found in a country and in an age like 
our own. 



52 FANATICISJI, 

In truth, little more than the trite surface of human 
nature meets the eye among a people like ourselves. 
Our theories and systems of morals hardly take ac- 
count of upper and lower instances, while they are 
busied with what may be found in the mid region of 
mixed and moderate. passions. Living as we do under 
the meridian of caution and mediocrity, history when 
most faithful, often sounds like romance ; or even if 
we give credit to its narrations, we regard its lessons 
as of little practical significance now, inasmuch as 
whatever is virulent or terrible has fallen, we think, 
from the usage of mankind. 

It has become somewhat difficult even to place our- 
selves so far in sympathy with extreme emotions as is 
necessary for understanding them. In all things what 
is profound has given way to what is familiar ; or what 
once was fact is now thought of only as fit subject for 
fiction. ]V|^n of the present age are care-worn much 
oftener th^n melancholy ; merry or jovial, rather than 
joyous ; si^gaciousor ingenious, more than meditative ; 
and so keenly attached to the passing moment, as to 
throw up their interest as well in the past as in the 
future. Order, custom, and utility, set bounds — and 
very narrow bounds to all modes of conduct: the spirit 
of raillery quenches, or imposes a disguise upon what- 
ever emotions are not trivial. It is not indeed to be 
regretted that the firm constitutions of society, in mod- 
ern times, and its established notions, repress or con- 
fine so much as they do the profounder and more vir- 
ulent impulses of the soul. But the fact of this change 
and improvement should always be kept in mind when 
the power of such emotions is to be calculated, or 
when conjecture is employed upon the possible events 
of another age. A free and equal government (and 
this is its praise) supersedes, nay almost extinguishes the 
stronger passions. Private life, happily is too secure, 
and public affairs are too well settled, to afford those 
sudden and extraordinary excitements w^hich awaken 
the latent energies of men. It is despotism, plunging 



/ THE OFFSPRING OF ENTHUSIASM. 53 

a ruthless hand into the bosom of domestic peace — it is 
ambition, immolating a thousand victims in an hour — 
it is popular fury, led on or repulsed by a single arm, 
that display the expansive force of the human mind 
when urged to the utmost excess of feeling. 

Even those visible and natural excitements, of the 
imagination, whence the deeper passions are wont to 
draw much of their vigour, are denied to us. England 
has all the beauties of picture ; but they are beauties 
in miniature. What we look upon around us is the 
scenery of poetry, rather than of tragedy. And it is 
a fact, if not constant, yet ordinary, that those por- 
tentous corruscations of the passions which ally them- 
selves readily with the imagination, have burst out 
from the thick gloom of a frowning Nature. Such 
excesses have chiefly appeared where awful scenery, 
or extreme violences of climate have seemed well to 
comport with egregious sentiments and frenzied 
actions. Man (that is to say when once effectively 
roused to action) acts quite another part than we 
think of, if his lot be to roam through howling soli- 
tudes — to traverse boundless and burning sands — to 
hide himself among cloud-covered precipices — to gaze 
upon the unalterable and intolerable splendour of the 
sky ; — if often he stand aghast amid the earthquake or 
the hurricane, or be overtaken by sultry tempests, 
fraught with suffocation. It is in the heart of forests 
that are the ancient domain of enormous reptiles, or 
of savage beasts — it is where horror and death lurk in 
the way, that the darker passions reach their fullest 
growth, and are to be seen in their proper force. All 
the principal or most characteristic forms of fanaticism 
have had their birth beneath sultry skies, and have 
thence spread into temperate climates by transporta- 
tion, or infection. 

No such rule must be assumed as absolute — few 
rules that relate to human nature are so, but it is one 
as uniform as most, that where neither reason, nor the 
genuine affections, but imagination, acts as the prime 

6* 





FANATICISM, 

y^ ifeipuTse in religion, the malign emotions are found in 
'X, close attendance, and seldom fail to convert spurious 
piety into an energetic rancour. Then again this ran- 
cour reacts upon the enthusiasm whence it sprang ; — 
the child schools the parent (an inverted order of things 
not unusual where the progeny has much more vigour 
than the parent). Enthusiasm, when it has come to 
sustain Fanaticism, is far more darkly coloured, is 
more profound, more mysterious, than the illusory 
piety that has no such load upon its shoulders. Things 
bright and fair, although unreal, are the chosen objects 
of this ; but the other asks whatever is terrific and 
destructive. This sort of transmutation of sentiments, 
which happens when the enthusiast becomes the 
fanatic — when malignity is shed upon illusion, much 
resembles what often takes place in feverish sleep ; — 
who has not seen in his dreams, splendid and smiling 
pageants, gradually relinquishing the brilliant colours 
they first showed, just as if the summer's sun were 
sinking from the skies; — but presently a murky 
glimmer half reveals menacing forms ; and in the 
next moment some horrid and gory phantom starts 
forth, and becomes master of the scene ! 

The false religion then of the Fanatic includes 
elements not at all known to the mere Enthusiast ; 
and before w^e descend to the particular instances it 
will be advantageous to ascertain the general (if not 
universal) characteristics of the spurious malign Re- 
ligion \vhich animates his bosom ; — they may be 
reduced to three capital articles; namely, 1st. A 
deference to Malignant Invisible Power ; 2d. The 
natural consequence of such a deference — rancorous 
contempt or detestation of the mass of mankind, as 
religiously cursed and abominable ; and 3d. The 
belief of corrupt favouritism on the part of Invisible. 
Powers, towards a sect or particular class of men ; 
and this partiality is the antithesis of the relentless 
tyranny of which all other men are the objects. 
I. We have named — A Deference, or religious 



THE OFFSPRING OF ENTHUSIASM. 55 

regard to Malign Invisible Powers, whether Su- 
preme or Subordinate, which will be found to enter, 
as primary ingredient, into every form of Fanaticism, 
ancient and modern, and may well be called its 
Germ. 

To believe that evil has affected other races of 
rational agents besides the human, and that such 
depraved and malignant beings, though unseen, 
infringe in some manner upon the human system — is 
one thing: and it is a belief which reason admits, and 
revelation confirms ; but either to impute in any soi't, 
malignancy to the Supreme Power, or to make sub- 
ordinate malignant powers the objects of deference, 
direct or indirect, or to grant to their agency the 
prime place among religious notions, is quite another 
thing ; and it is a perversion of this sort, more or less 
gross, and more or less apparent, which imparts force 
to every species of rancorous religious sentiment. 

On a field like this the imagination, if it be troubled 
by a gloomy temper, or made turgid by fierce pas- 
sions, and especially if it be saddened by actual 
sufferings, will never want scope or fail of excite- 
ments. Nothing less in fact than the hope which it 
is the prerogative of true religion to impart can bar 
the entrance of the mind into this realm of fear — a 
realm upon which mankind has in every age eagerly 
sought to make incursions. If we are to employ 
phrases in accordance with the facts which history 
presents, we are bound to affirm that the Natural 
Religion of man, is the fear and service of Malig- 
nant Powers. Gloomy superstition springs up invol- 
untarily in the human mind, depraved as it is, and 
exposed to so many pains, wants, and cruelties, and 
liable withal to death. Man does not become reli- 
gious by mere force of gratitude : the unnoticed bene- 
fits of every hour lead him not to the shrine of the 
' Supreme Beneficence : it is danger and sorrow that 
drive him to the altar. The necessities and miseries 
of the animal frame — the confusion and misrule that 



56 FANATICISM, 

prevail in the social system — the stifled sense of guilt 
in every bosom, and the boding of future punishment, 
as well as the hatreds which woe and oppression 
cherish, are active and pungent elements, working in 
the soul with incomparably more force than belongs 
to the mild sentiments that may be engendered either 
by the spectacle of the order and beauty of the 
material world, or by the fruition of the common 
goods of life. 

The theism of philosophers has never availed to 
counteract that natural tendency which draws on 
mankind to the worship of Evil Powers. Neither the 
ancient nor the modern systems of abstract philoso- 
phy have taken any strong hold of the spirits of men ; 
and the failure has happened, not so much because 
such systems were too refined or too abstruse for 
vulgar apprehension ; but because they have not 
made provision for the actual position of man in the 
present state. Sages have announced the Divine 
perfections, and there have stopped ; — but to bring 
these perfections to bear, in any mode of effective 
relief, upon the guilt and sorrows of mankind, was a 
problem quite beyond their power. Let it be granted 
that philosophical theism may be true in some far 
distant upper sphere ; but on Earth it serves to 
explain nothing; it assuages no trouble ; it is no more 
applicable to the real occasions of life, than are the 
dreams of the poet. The sage and the poet must alike 
be looked upon as mere men of idleness and specula- 
tion ; — their theories of the world — the one abstruse, 
the other gorgeous, ask to be carried back many ages, 
or carried forward as many, before space can be 
found where they may be lodged. Stern experience 
indignantly or contemptuously rejects both. 

Of all the popular modes which have been devised 
for counteracting the tendency of mankind to malign 
superstition, that embodied in the mythology of the 
people of Greece may claim to have been the most 
successful, as well as the most rich and splendid. 



THE OFFSPRING OP ENTHUSIASM. 57 

This system of worship — not so much the work of 
design, as the spontaneous product of the national 
mind, avoided provoking the resentment of tortured 
hearts by giving a direct contradiction to gloomy 
surmises ; — it did not interdict sanguinary supersti- 
tion ; but rather occupied beforehand the elements 
of terror, and worked them up as the materials of 
its supernatural machinery. No example can be 
adduced, from any other quarter, of so skilful a sub- 
stitution of the sublime and beautiful for the terrific. 
DeHcious intellectual voluptuousness, with poetry, and 
the drama, with painting, architecture and sculpture, 
as its ministers, got the start of the violent passions, 
and of natural terrors ; and without insulting human 
woe (as philosophy does) and without giving license 
to ferocious impulses, as was done by the oriental 
superstitions, it soothed every harsh feeling by the 
insinuating fascinations of melody, symmetry, and 
colour. The Grecian imaginative theology, after 
having preoccupied the human mind by its exquisite 
forms of ideal, or visible and tangible beauty, gave 
audience to the more fierce and malign emotions in 
their subdued and tranquil hour : or it brought them 
over unconsciously to such a mood. — Orpheus was 
immortal in Greece, and always present in the tem- 
ples to lull the angry or destructive desires of the 
rude populace. The lion and the leopard are seen 
stalking along, if sullen, yet pacified, in the proces- 
sions of revelry and joy. 

The Malignant Powers had indeed their titles and 
images, and temples in Greece; but their tyranny was 
not permitted ; and in accordance with this proscrip- 
tion the priestly order was denied the means of 
extending its power. Nothing dark or cruel was 
suffered, in a crude form, to irritate the minds of the 
people. Although Fanaticism could not be absolutely 
excluded from the land of beauty, it received there 
more effectual modifications than any where else — • 
the very circle of pure and true religion excepted. 



58 FANATICISM, 

Hesiod, Pindar, Homer, iEschylus, Sophocles, Apelles, 
Phidias, were in fact, though not in form, the Pkiests 
of the Grecian worship, and the doctors of its theol- 
ogy; and if they did not professedly teach religious 
truth, they yet disarmed religious error very much of 
its evil influence. 

Historical justice demands that when the absurdi- 
ties and the impurity of the Grecian polytheism (both 
indeed very gross) are spoken of, its extaordinary influ- 
ence in allaying the violence of fanaticism should be 
distinctly admitted. On this ground no other supersti- 
tion of the nations can at all come into comparison 
with it. The same justice should more-over lead us to 
acknowledge — to acknowledge with bitter grief, that, 
in later times, the corruptions of the Jewish and Chris- 
tian systems imparted a virulence to fanaticism, such 
as the contemporaries of Socrates and Plato would 
have shuddered to think of. The arrogant misanthro- 
py of the Jew — the relentless intolerance of the Mo- 
hammedan, and most of all, the insatiate bigotry of 
the Papist, were forms of evil, new to the world when 
they severally appeared, and gave an appearance of 
reason to the calumnies of philosophers, who affirmed 
that the western nations had discarded the ancient 
mythology to their cost. 

n. The conceptions we form of the Divine Being, 
and our feelings toward our fellow men, are always 
dependent one upon the other. As well by natural 
influence, as by mere contagion of sentiments, a belief 
in malignant divinities, or an imputation of malevolence 
in any form, to the Supreme Being, brings with it the 
supposition that the mass of mankind, or at least that 
certain portions of mankind, are the objects and the 
victims of Divine malediction ; and therefore may be, 
or ought to be, contemned, tormented, destroyed. 

Is it theory only, or is it matter of history, that 
Malign Theology has invariably been followed at 
hand by intolerance, execrations, cruelties ? Or which- 
ever may have been precursor, the other has quickly 



THE OFFSPRING OF ENTHUSIASM. 59 

come up. Nor is a simple association all, for the style 
of the theoretic error will be found to have comported 
with the character of the practical mischief. Thus it 
is that, as the belief in malevolent divinities, or the im- 
putation of malevolence (under any disguise of abstract 
terms) to the Supreme Being, contradicts or distorts 
the genuine notion of sovereign and impartial Justice, 
to the tribunal of which nothing is amenable but crime, 
so the correspondent feeling towards mankind which 
such a belief engenders, is not that of righteous dis- 
approbation on the score of moral offences ; but that 
of detestation or abhorrence, on the mysterious ground 
of ecclesiastical impurity. It is not as the transgres- 
sors of a holy law, but as the reprobate of Heaven, 
that men in particular, or that nations are to be shut 
out from the circle of our charities. The multitude 
or herd of mankind is spurned as abominable, much 
more than as guilty. And when once so grievous a 
perversion of feeling has taken place, then the whole 
of the force which belongs to our instinctive notions 
of retribution, or to our acquired belief of future judg- 
ment, is thrown into the channel of our sectarian aver- 
sions ; and this force, like a mountain torrent, in so 
passing from an open to a narrow bed, gains new im- 
petuosity. — Ingenuous disapproval becomes covert 
rancour; .virtuous indignation slides into implacable 
revenge ; and acrid scorn completely excludes, not 
only all indulgence towards the frailty of men, but all 
compassion for their sorrows. 

A sense of justice founded on genuine notions of 
the Divine character and government, does not carry 
the mind further than to a mournful acquiescence in 
the infliction of due punishment upon the guilty. But 
it is quite otherwise with that perverted feeling which, 
while it draws its animation from hatred, derives its 
swollen bulk from the imagination. — The imagijiation 
inflamed by malignity, respects no bounds in its de- 
mand of vengeance. The very essence of Justice, 
which is strictly to observe a limits scandalizes the 



60 FANATICISM, 

fanatic, who must heap terror upon terror, and still 
fails to satisfy his conception of what might be fitting, 
as the doom of the accursed objects of his contempt. 
There is in the human mind, when profoundly moved, 
a strange eagerness to reach the depths of the most 
appalHng ideas ; — or, shall we say, to tread the very 
lowest ground of the world of woe and horror. This 
innominate appetite finds its proper aliment when a 
Manichsean belief is turned wildly loose upon the fieU 
of human misery : — carnage, murder, slavery, torment, 
famine, pestilence, pining anguish ; — or hurricanes, 
earthquakes, volcanic fires, are all so many articles 
in the creed of the malign being. Under the influence 
of this cavernous inspiration, Pity is thought of, not 
merely as contemptible, but as impious ; — Justice is 
injustice, and leniency the greatest of crimes. — Are 
we here only giving point to a paragraph ? — or has not 
history often and again verified such a description of 
the enormities which the human heart, badly informed, 
may entertain ?* 

III. But the Fanatic, inasmuch as he is an Enthu- 
siast born, must take up yet another and a more spark- 
ling element of character ; and it is nothing else than 
the supposhion of corrupt favouritism on the part of 
the deity he worships, toward himself and the faction 
of which he is a member. The Fanatic, and this we 
must keep in mind, is not a simple misanthrope, nor 
the creature of sheer hatred and cruelty : — he does 
not move like a venemous reptile lurking in a crevice, 
or winding silent through the grass; but soars in mid 
heaven as a fiery flying serpent, and looks down from 
on high upon whom he hates. Imaginative by tem- 
perament, his emotions are allied to hope and presump- 
tion, more closely than to fear and despondency : he 
firmly believes, therefore, in the favour of the supernal 
powers towards their faithful votaries ; and in expect- 

* A fit occasion will present itself for excluding any sinister infer- 
ence which might be drawn from these allegations against the serious 
verities of Christianity. 



THE OFFSPRING OF ENTHUSIASM. 61 

ation of still more signal boons than yet he has re- 
ceived, offers himself to their service, as the unflinch- 
ing champion of their interests on earth. 

And besides, as we have already said, the imagina- 
tion, when brought into play by self-love, must draw" 
its excitements from a circle which it can embrace. 
It will then be a tribe, a sect, a faction, that affords a 
sphere to fanaticism ; and the infuriate religionist, how 
unsocial soever in temper, is compelled to love a few, 
so that he may be able, in the strength of that partial 
feeling, to hate the many with full intensity. — The 
supposition of special favour towards ourselves, on the 
part of heaven, will corrupt and debilitate, or will 
purify and invigorate the heart, precisely according to 
the quality of the notions we entertain of the Divine 
character. The idea of personal regard and affection 
from Him who loves only what is good and pure like 
Himself, can never operate to impair the principles of 
the moral sense : nay, this very idea, when freed from 
illusions, imparts elevation to virtue, and makes the 
temper and conduct of man, on earth, to reflect the 
brightness of heaven. But on the contrary, theological 
notions, when sullied or distorted, vitiate in an extreme 
degree every sentiment of the deluded being who 
deems himself the darling of the skies. Let but such 
a pestilent doctrine be admitted as that the Divine 
favour is bestowed, not merely in disregard of virtue, 
but in contempt of it, and then religion, with all its 
power, goes over to swell the torrent of impurity, 
cupidity, and malice. Under patronage of a belief 
like this, virtue and vice change sides in the court of 
conscience, and the latter claims sacred honours. 

We recapitulate our three elements of Fanaticism, 
which (as we assume) will be discoverable, in different 
modes or proportions, under all forms of religious 
extravagance — namely — The supposition of malignity 
on the part of the object of religious worship; — a con- 
sequent detestation of mankind at large, as the subjects 
of Malignant Power ; and then a credulous conceit of 

7 



62 



FANATICISM. 



the favour of Heaven, shovi^n to a few, in contempt of 
the rules of virtue. 

Now we might follow the track of history, and 
exhibit the modifications these elements have under- 
gone in the religious systems that have successively 
ruled in the world. But any method which observes 
the order of Time, though obvious and simple, is 
laden with the inconvenience of involving frequent 
repetitions of general principles. It will be better to 
sieze upon certain leading varieties of our subject, as 
marked by broad distinctions, easily traced in every 
age, and such as may be recognized, whenever they 
may recur, without hazard of mistake. These con- 
spicuous varieties may be brought under four designa- 
tions, of which the first will comprehend all instances 
wherein malignant religious sentiments turn inward 
upon the unhappy subject of them; to the second 
class will belong that more virulent sort of fanaticism 
which looks abroad for its victims : the third embraces 
the combination of intemperate religious zeal with 
military sentiments, or with national pride, and the 
love of power ; to the fourth class must be reserved 
all instances of the more intellectual kind, and which 
stand connected with opinion and dogma. Our first 
sort then is Austere ; the second Cruel ; the third 
Ambitious ; and the fourth Factious. 

Or, for the purpose of fixing a characteristic mark 
upon each of our classes, as above named, let it be 
permitted us to entitle them as follows — namely, the 
firsts The Fanaticism of the Scourge ; or of personal 
infliction : the second, the Fanaticism of the Brand ; 
or of immolation and cruelty : the third, the Fanaticism 
of the Banner; or of ambition and conquest: and 
the fourth, the Fanaticism of the Symbol; or of 
creeds, dogmatism, and ecclesiastical virulence. 



SECTION V. 



FANATICISM OF THE SCOURGE. 

The broadest distinctions in the exterior character of 
men, and the most marked dissimilarities in their 
modes of conduct, do not infallibly bespeak a difference 
equally great in the elements of their temper. On the 
contrary, it is sometimes easy to trace in the minds of 
those between whose visible course of life there has 
been little or no resemblance, a close analogy. Yet 
even when such an analogy may be discerned, it is 
not always practicable to discover the causes of the 
external diversity which distinguishes them. An 
obscure peculiarity of the bodily temperament, or a 
forgotten incident of early life, may have been enough 
to determine whether certain impetuous passions 
should take their course abroad, or should boil as a 
vortex within the bosom. So is it that when a stream 
gushes from its cleft, the mere bend of a tree, or the 
angle of a rock, may be all the reason either of its 
taking its course westward — to measure the width of 
a continent ; or toward the east, soon to find a home 
in some pent-up gully, or sullen cavern of the 
mountains. 

Causes so inconsiderable or so latent we must not 
hope always to detect. It will be enough if we can 
shew reason for bringing together into the same gen- 
eral class, men who would both perhaps have recoiled 
with horror or with disdain to find themselves in each 
other's company. Yes, we should all learn much of the 
secrets of our personal dispositions, and see our pecu- 



64 



FANATICISM 



liar tempers as if under a sudden blaze of light, could 
it happen that some superior Intelligence, descending 
upon earth, were to do nothing more as Discriminator 
of character, and Censor of minds, than silently to clas- 
sify the crowd of men by the rule of their original 
propensities, or their essential merits. — We should 
then read our hearts in the companions with whom we 
found ourselves assorted. 

Why has the fanaticism of one man devastated the 
world ; while that of another has spent itself within 
the walls of a cloister ? we may not be able to say. 
Nevertheless there are instances of this sort which are 
easily explained. As for example : — violent or ma- 
lign passions sometimes turn inward, and vex the 
heart that generates them, in consequence of the mere 
sluggishness or lassitude of the animal system which, 
while it insulates a man from others, as if he were 
enveloped in an indolent fog, yet does not much affect 
the interior of the character. There may exist a very 
high rate of moral or intellectual excitement, where 
the manners aqd mode of conduct indicate nothing 
but torpor. Jiist as, in some bottomless lakes, vehe- 
ment under-curi-ents or eddies make sport below, while 
the surface is still and stagnant. Not a few of our 
fanatics of the self-tormenting class come under this 
description. 

There is too to be found, here and there, a pride of 
personal independence, and a misanthropic arrogance 
which as it spurns every sort of mutuality, compels 
the soul to feed on its own substance. It might seem 
enough for such a one to refuse to draw its satisfactions 
from its fellows ; but there is a malignant pride more 
excessive than this, and which even refuses to be so 
far dependent upon other men as to call them the 
objects of its hatred or revenge. — There is a haughti- 
ness so egregious that a man will contemn and torment 
himself sooner than condescend to look abroad as if 
he stood in need of any beings as the objects of his ire- 
ful emotions. Although nature forbids that any such at- 



OF THE SCOUKGE. 65 

tempt at mental insulation should be altogether success- 
ful yet the endeavour is made and is renewed, day after 
day, by spirits of the order we describe. On the other 
hand, there are instances in which a mild meditative 
humour, perverted by some false system of belief, or 
excessive sensibilities that have chanced to be torn 
and outraged in the world, or much physical timidity 
combined with lofty and exquisite sentiments, produce 
the effect of introverting gloomy emotions upon the 
heart. 

Instances of a mixed or mitigated kind present 
themselves on all sides. In truth the cases of pure 
fanaticism (our definition being kept in view*) are 
rare ; or rather, are not readily separated from those 
dispositions with which it naturally consorts. Whether 
certain extravagant modes of conduct are to be attrib- 
uted to sheer superstition ; or whether there be noth- 
ing in them worse than an absurd enthusiasm, it may 
be impossible to affirm. The best we can do is to 
catch the distinctive features of each kind, as the am- 
biguous instances pass before us. Of all the facts 
which might be adduced (and they would soon fill vol- 
umes) illustrative of the system of monkish austerity, 
very few broadly and incontestibly exhibit the virulent 
motives which, nevertheless, the entire history of the 
system demonstrates to have been in secret operation 
throughout it. Especially is it to be observed, that the 
prevalence of a certain accredited and admired style 
of expressing the monkish doctrine conceals, or half 
conceals the passions that were working beneath the 
surface of its placid sanctity. No one who is conver- 
sant with the ascetic writers can have failed to discern 
the strong heavings of human nature under the pres- 
sure of that system, even when it might be difficult or 
impossible to adduce formal proof of the hidden com- 
motion. What we have now to do is broadly to char- 

*Page 21. 

7* 



66 Fanaticism 

acterlse this species of fanaticism ; — not such as it 
seems in the encomiastic pages of Theodoret, Sozomen, 
Isidore, Macarius, Palladius, Cassian ; or of Basil and 
Bernard ; but such as, after a candid perusal of these 
writers, we are compelled to believe it to have been.* 

There are three distinct elements upon which fan- 
atical sentiment, when introverted, employs itself; and 
in each instance the product is very distinguishable. — - 
These are, 1st. The miseries, physical and mental, to 
which man is liable. 2d. A consciousness of personal 
guilt, and dread of retribution. And, 3d. The suppo- 
sition of supererogatory or vicarious merit. The work- 
ing of the soul upon each of these excitements de- 
mands to be briefly exhibited. 

1st. There is a rebellion of proud hearts against the 
calamities to which human life is exposed, such as 
impels sometimes the disordered mind to take up its 
burden of woe spontaneously, rather than wait till it 
be imposed. " If pain, sorrow, and want, are to be my 
companions, I vow to have none beside.— I will run 
forward and embrace wretchedness. — I will live for 
Misery, so that she may never overtake me, or set me 
as the mark of her arrow. Disappointment shall for 
me hold no shaft which I will not have wrenched from 
her cruel hand, ere it can be hurled. The power of 
bodily pain shall have no anguish in store which I will 
not freely have forestalled. Famine, thirst, heat and 
cold, shall assail me with no new lesson of distress. — ■ 
No, for I will frequent their school. Every pang the 
flesh or the heart can feel, I will prevent by existing 
only for sorrow. Even that unknown futurity of evil 
which death may reveal, I will penetrate by continual 
meditation of horrors. So will I daily converse with 
ghastly despair, as to taste beforehand the very worst, 
and to nullify fear by familiarity." Modes of feeling 

*The Author having in another volume considered the Monkish 
institute and doctrine as the product and parent of Enthusiasm, has 
now only to advert to those stronger features of the system which 
mark it as Fanatical or virulent. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 67 

such as this, have been indulged ; and perhaps even 
now are not wholly ui known to some. While we are 
looking only on the frivolous, the busy, and the sen- 
sual field of common life as spread out around us, it 
may be hard to believe that the human mind has ever 
travelled on a path so deep-sunken. But if we turn 
aside a little from the beaten road, we shall find instan- 
ces of this sort actually to belong to the history of 
n^an. 

A desperate and sullen pride has always marked 
the oriental (polytheistic) austerities ; and in India we 
see unmasked, that which in Europe has disguised 
itself under Christian modes of expression. Very 
little thkt offends against the professed humility of the 
ascetic life is to be found on the pages of the writers 
who give us the principles and rules of the system, and 
who, for the most part, were themselves happy under 
it, as Enthusiasts. What might be the bitterness of 
the heart in those who were its victims, we are left to 
surmise. There were more motives than one for im- 
posing perpetual silence upon the inmates of the 
monastery. The founder of the order, or its reformer, 
might talk aloud, and disclaim as he would upon the 
felicity of his condition ; for with him the fanaticism 
was of a sort that might be known and looked at ; but 
not so with the fraternity at large. A de Ranee or a 
Eustache de Beaufort may speak : — but their com- 
panions must utter no whisper of their sorrows.* 

* St. Bernard, intending no doubt to recommend the monastic 
state, pleasantly compares the monks to the fish in a puddle! "Sunt 
et in stagnis rnundi places, qui in claustris Deo serviunt in spiritu et 
veritate. Merito siquidem stagnis monasteriacomparantur, ubi quo- 
dammodo incarcerati pisces evagandi non habeant libertatem." 
(Serm.in Fest. S. Aiidr. Jipost.) And a horrid prison, according to 
his own confession, was ihe monastery : " Duro me carceri manci- 
pavi." {Epist. 237.) So much so, that it seemed to the saint himself 
the greatest of all miracles that men should be found who were will- 
ing to endure its discipline. Let us hear him when, on a high day, 

he is haranguing the fraternity : " Gluid mirabilius, &c Gluod 

rnajus miraculum, quando tot juvenes, tot adolescentes, tot nobiles, 
universi denique quos hie video, velut in carcere aperto tenentur sine 



68 FANATICISM 

2d. A proud forestalling of misery, such as we have 
just spoken of, ordinarily combines itself with the con- 
sciousness of guilt and the dread of retribution ; and 
both together lead to the same voluntary endurance of 
extreme pains; he who thinks himself both a Victim^i 
and a Culprit would fain take the engine of retribu- 
tive torment into his own hand, lest it should be laid 
hold of by the Vindictive Power he dreads. And the 
hope he entertains of acting always as proxy for the 
minister of Justice in his own case, bears proportion 
to the rigour with v^^hich he exercises the function of 
executioner.* 

What spectacle in nature so monstrous, what, at 
first sight, so inexplicable, as that of an excruciated 
devotee who scorns even to writhe or to sigh under 
tortures which other men would not endure an hour, 

vinculis, solo Dei timore confixi : quod in tanta perseverant afHictione 
pcenitentiae, ultra virtulem humanam, supra naturam, contra consue- 
tudinem ?" {Serm. in dedicat. eccles.) A general fact, on the ground 
of which we may argue more confidently than from the disguised 
language of men whose enslaved spirits knew^ nothing of ingenu- 
ousness, is this, that as the monastic system sprung up amid the 
persecutions of the second century, so has it flourished most, and been 
carried to the greatest extremes, in times of public calamity and 
disorder. — The miseries of the open world have been reflected upon 
the austerities of the cell — that camera obscura. It appears plainly 
that the exceisive abstinence and the savage habits of the Egyptian 
eremites — so much admired by the Church writers of the fourth and 
fifth centuries, were little more than a fantastic form of the wretched- 
ness of the people of the country. As much as this is confessed by 
some of the eulogists of these horrid saints. Thus for example 
Palladius. — As to what relates to eating and drinking (speaking of 
a certain Macarius and his companions) I need say little, since nothing 
like gluttony is to be found there, even among the most indulgent of 
the monks, who live at large ; or any thing to distinguish them from 
the people of the country ; and this as well by reason of the scarcity of 
food, as from the impulse of a Divine zeal — xot? Sice, tyjv cTruvriv rav 

XpiZ'^j xa/ S^iee, rov xarot &ehv ^rjXov Lausaic Hist. c. 21. 

* Christian sentiments modify the feelings of this sort, and give 
them a more humble guise. Ergo qui poenitentiam agit, offere se 
debet ad poenam, ut hie puniatur a Domino, non ad supplicia aeterna 
servetur: nee expectare tempus, sed occurrere divinae indignationi. 
{Ambrose in Ps. xxxvii.) Do the apostles speak in any such style ? 
The transition was easy from a doctrine like this to the extremest 
austerities. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 69 

to save or to obtain a mountain of gold ! Yet he sus- 
tains, year after year, his burden of woe in the mere 
strength of the obduracy of his soul ! — Bound to the 
stake ; — yes, but bound only by the cords of pride ! 
Does then a spectacle like this alford no lesson ? After 
we have scoffed at the folly, or wondered at the infat- 
uation of the voluntary sufferer, let us return and ask, 
whether so strange a perversion of the power of the 
spirit over the body, does not furnish evidence of an 
overthrown greatness in the human mind, such as the 
atheist and sceptic quite leave out of their theory 
of man? If it be said that these witless personal in- 
flictions take place in consequence only of an error of 
belief, and may properly be compared to the ill-direct- 
ed fatigues of a traveller who, on wrong information, 
pursues a worse road when he might have found a 
better, let only the experiment be tried of leading, into 
a parallel error, any being to whom the body and its 
welfare is the supreme and only interest to be cared 
for. — Not a step could ever be set by such a being 
towards a folly of this order. The liability of man to 
go so far astray springs from those ulterior principles 
that are involved in his nature, and which bespeak an 
immortal destiny. Every such practical absurdity is 
an implicit proof of the presence of a latent capacity 
for entertaining the highest truths ; and if man be the 
only fool among the tribes of earth, and the only 
wretch, it is because he alone might be wise, virtuous 
and happy. 

On this ground the voluntary endurance of tor- 
ment, from motives of religion, may be assumed, as 
demonstrative evidence of the intrinsic superiority of 
the mental over the animal principles of our nature; 
— for when the body prevails, as too often it does, 
over the mind, it is by the means of seductions and 
flatteries ; and we know that in this manner the noble 
may readily be made to succumb beneath the base. 
But when, as in the instance before us, the mental 
force triumphs over the physical will, it does so in the 



70 FANATICISM 

way of an open trial of relative strength ; — and the 
stronger principle is found to prevail. We receive, 
moreover, from these extraordinary facts, a striking 
proof of the supremacy of the moral sense in the 
constitution of man ; for it is this chiefly that gives 
impulse to the practices of self-torture. And again, 
the relation of man to Invisible and Retributive Pow- 
er, is by the same means established ; the secret of 
every sort of self-infliction is a tacit compromise with 
Future Justice ; and when notions such as these take 
effect in a paramount manner, carrying all other 
reasons before them, we have evidence that, in the 
order of nature, Religion is the sovereign motive. 

The fanatic is much in error ; yet let it not be 
thought that he subverts the first principles of virtue. 
— He is wrong on certain points of morality, calling 
good evil and evil good ; but still it is good and evil 
that are the elements he works upon. And so in 
religion. — His correspondence is with a Power of 
retributive Government on high ; but he thinks amiss 
of that Power. His error is to impute an intrinsic 
malignancy, or a sheer vindictive purpose to the Invisi- 
ble Authority ; and then he conceives of himself as 
having, by his transgressions, fallen into the hands of 
the irresistible avenger, who, as he thinks, can take 
advantage of mankind only so far as sin brings them 
within the circle of his wrath ; or who, once and 
again starts forth and catches an opportunity against 
men, when he finds them unwary or at fault. 

In a form so preposterous as this, fanatical belief is 
hardly perhaps to be met with, except on the banks 
of the Ganges or in the wilds of Africa. We describe 
the feehng in its extremes, and then, in turning to 
instances where a purer creed has softened whatever 
is harsh, and where an accredited theological style 
has disguised whatever is offensive, we trace the 
elements of the very same order of feeling under the 
concealments that recommend them. We must not 
expect to hear from the Christian ascetic a genuine 



OF THE SCOURGE. 71 

expression of the emotions that torment his bosom : 
these are to be divined by a fair interpretation of 
his behaviour. It is by the same rule that we shall 
presently have to estimate the dispositions of those 
who have signalized themselves in scenes of cruelty. 
To read the extant writings — the epistles, the medita- 
tions, the homilies, of some of these sanguinary per- 
sonages, one would think them unconscious of every 
thing but meekness aud charity. 

Dread or dismay, when of long continuance, natu- 
rally settles down into some sort of calculation or of 
compromise with the apprehended danger. And it is 
thus that there arises, within the troubled spirit of the 
man whose consciousness of guilt was at first intoler- 
able, a whispered controversy with the vengeful Pow- 
er, or a dull wrangling debate concerning the precise 
amount of the mulct, and the mode of payment. The 
culprit, confessing that he has fallen under the power 
of his adversary, nevertheless does not, after a while 
despair of making terms more advantageous than at 
first he had thought of — With this hope he looks 
about for the means of righting his cause, or even of 
quite turning the balance in his favour. — Yes, and he 
goes so far as to harbour the thought (natural to the 
mind when it is the prey of rancorous emotions) of 
justifying, to such an extent, the difference between 
himself and the Avenger, as that, if after all, punish- 
ment should be inflicted, it shall be, and shall seem to 
others — unrighteous and cruel, so that while writhing 
under it, the sufferer may console himself with the 
proud consciousness of merit, and may, even on the 
ground of severe justice, gain a right of retaliation. 

At this point then there comes in hope, and a new 
emotion to give alacrity to the fortitude of the soul. — 
The conscience-stricken man discovers that he pos- 
sesses within himself (as if it were an inexhaustible 
fund) the power of enduring privations and pains : — 
he may deny every gratification, he may sustain with- 
out a groan the most extreme anguish, he may live 



72 FANATICISM 

only to suffer. And in his mode of estimating the 
absolving value of bodily torment he reckons that, 
whatever price may be put upon those pains or wants 
which a man endures unwillingly, and from which he 
has no means of escaping, the merit of the same 
amount of affliction borne voluntarily, is tenfold 
greater.^ Whoever then has the fortitude to inflict 
misery upon himself, may boldly defy vindictive 
Power; for he commands the means of adding merit 
to merit, at such a rate of rapid accumulation as shall 
presently outstrip the reckoning of the adversary.f 

Fanaticism (the fanaticism of personal infliction) is 
not ripened until it approaches this point. That is to 
say, it wants spring and warmth ; — it is not tumid ; — 
it has no heroism so long as mere dread, and the sense 
of guilt, are uppermost in the mind. But when pride 
takes its high standing upon the supposition of merit 
won, and when Invisible Powers are deemed to have 
been foiled, then the spirit gets freedom and soars. — 
Pitiable triumph of the lacerated heart that thus vaunts 
itself in miseries as useless as they are horrid ! — Must 

^ Oy yap o uijopSv t£v UMCcyy^oLiMV, x.cipT£p{xo<;, osXX o 
Iv d^P^oviM rrj^ ciTroXavc-ecJi ^yKCiprspav ro'i(; JV/voT. So says 
Basil ; and the sentiment might be put at the head of volumes of 
spurious morality. 

t Not a few of those who peopled, first the deserts, and afterwards 
the monasteries, were such as the " Blessed" eremite whom Palla- 
dius describes {Lnusaic Hist. c. 19.) — a homicide — we take his word 
for it that he was not a murderer, who, in terror of justice, and under 
horror of conscience — fA;]^tvi f^'/]^£v slprixag, xctrcckaix^'ivei Ty]v 
eprjiiov — where, unsheltered, he wandered, lost to all feeling three 
years ; but afterwards built for himself a cell, and acquired celebrity 
as an eminent practitioner of austerities. I wished to know from 
him, says our author, with what feeling he now regarded the fatal 
act that had driven him into solitude.-— he replied, that, far from 
thinking of it with regret, it was a ground of thanksgiving — 
yeyevtirxi yap fA.Gi (pr/triv vTrohtrig c-aTiipioC(i o ux.otj(riog <Povo<;' 
The profession is susceptible of a good meaning, and charity requires 
that we should so receive it. Nothing indeed would be more out- 
rageous than to deny universally the piety and sincerity of even the 
most extravagant class of the anchorets. Better speak on such sub- 
jects hke Alban Butler than like Gibbon. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 73 

we not mourn the infatuations of our nature, as we 
watch the ascent of the soul that chmbs the sky only 
to carry there a sullen defiance of Eternal Justice ! — - 
So the bird of prey, beat off from the fold, and torn 
with the shepherd's shafts — its plumage ruffled, and 
stained with gore, flaps the wing on high, and fronts 
the sun as if to boast before heaven of its audacity and 
its wounds ! 

It is after it has passed this stage, or when fear and 
humiliation give way to hope, to pride, or perhaps to 
revenge, that secondary motives are brought in, and 
fanaticisQi becomes a mixed sentiment, and is lowered 
in its tone ; not seldom degenerates into farce or 
hypocrisy, and at length perhaps quite evaporates. 
Secondary motives of this kind would never be lis- 
tened to if it were not for the alleviations that arise 
from habit. The pains of mere privation, terrible as 
they seem to the luxurious, the human mind soon 
learns to endure without repining ; nay, it derives at 
length a sombre satisfaction from the very paucity of 
its sources of comfort. A reaction, such as this, is not 
of rare occurrence. — Certain tempers are alive to an 
emotion of personal independence which, when fully 
kindled, makes it delicious to a man to find that, in 
comparison with those around him, he is free from 
solicitude, because free from wants ; — that a mere 
morsel of the coarsest food is all he is compelled to 
ask from the grudging world ; and that the thraldom 
of artificial life is a bondage he has broken.* 

The habitude of positive pain, as well as that of 
mere privation, brings too its relief: — there is a torpor 

* To a naked eremite St. Bernard, pro signo caritatis, sent a cloak 
and boots, which he kindly received, and, as an act of humility and 
obedience, put on; yet presently, like a true New Zealander, laid" 
aside as intolerable. Et nunc, said he, pro amore ipsius, vestimenta 
transmissa obedienter accepi, et indui ; diutius tamen ea portare non 
vttleo, quia nee opus est mihi ; nee ipse mandavit. Dico autem vobis, 
amicis meis carissimis, quia nihil est mihi molestius quam ut curae 
carnis sarcinam odiosam, cum tanta difficultate depositam, lassatis 
et dolentibus humeris denuo imponere cogar. 

8 



74 FANATICISM 

partly of the nerve, but chiefly of the mind, which 
more and more blunts physical sensibility ; — and there 
is an art learned in the school of chronic suffering, 
which teaches so to shift the burden of anguish as that 
it may not any where gall to the quick. Moreover 
there is a power of abstraction from bodily sensations 
which long experience calls into exercise, and which 
may at length (even while matter and mind continue 
partners) almost set the conscious principle at large 
from its sympathy with mere flesh and nerve. Pain, 
at its first onset, condenses the soul upon a point ; or 
brings the whole of the sensitive faculty to the one 
centre of anguish ; but habit of pain loosens this con- 
centration, and allows the mind to occupy a wider 
surface. 

The eulogists of the ascetic saints boast often of the 
absolute insensibility to pain, to thirst, and to hunger, 
which some of their heroes had attained to. In certain 
instances the leathern girdle — zona pellicea, hoc est,. 
ex crudo corio — ad macerationem procurandam — w^as- 
found, after death, to have lodged itself (shall we say 
as a seton ?) in the integuments around the loins; so 
as (in ordinary cases) to have occasioned intense 
suffering: yet never had the secret been betrayed 
to the fraternity by any indications of uneasiness. 
Instances still more extreme, and far too revolting to 
describe, abound in the monkish records. If the facts 
are admitted as true, and they cannot altogether be 
rejected, it must be believed that a state of extreme 
mental abstraction not merely diverts the sense of 
pain ; but prevents also that physical excitement which 
ordinarily attends excruciating torture, and which 
wastes the animal force. We must attribute to the 
same influence of the mind the power acquired by 
some of the hermits of northern Europe to resist the 
most intense cold — unclothed and unsheltered. The 
instances are numerous, and are too familiarly spoken 
of to be reasonably called in question. In the tenth, 
eleventh, and twelfth centuries, the forests of France 



OF THE SCOURGE. 75 

and Germany were haunted by naked anchorets who, 
round the year, roamed about, refusing even the 
comforts of a cavern, and were wont to repose at 
night on the fresh fallen snow.* 

When so much proficiency as this has been made 
by the voluntary sufferer, he gains leisure to look 
abroad. Conqueror, so far, of himself — of nature, 
and of the vindictive powers, the fanatic stalks about 
as a hero, and may even begin to think how he shall 
turn his victory to profitable account. — Vanity and 
ambition, when once they gain a lodgement in the 
heart, imperceptibly, yet quickly sap more imaginative 
and passionate emotions. This substitution of ignoble 
sentiments for those of a deeper sort meets us every 
day. In truth the constant tendency or gravitation of 
the human mind is from the more to the less vehe- 
ment class of emotions ; and then its progress is from 
the simple and ardent, to the complex and turbid, in 
its habits of feeling. It is thus that the sincere enthu- 
siast so often becomes (perhaps unconsciously to him- 
self) a religious knave ; and thus too, that the man 
who commenced his course of mortification and ex- 

* After deducting from these narratives all the miracles, the bare 
feet is miracle enough. These stories could not have been sheer 
inventions. It is diifficult to choose among the abundance of ejc- 
amples ; — and so much the more difficult, because it is hard to find 
©ne in vi'hich the venerable language of Holy Scripture is not fright- 
fully misapplied to the follies of superstition. The author of the Book 
de Miracutis Cisterciensium Monachorum, thus speaks of one who, pro 
Christo quotidie moriens, non unam tantum, sed innumeras cruces et 
mortes sustinuit: quia quot diebus in eremo vixit, quasi tot martyria 
duxit. ..... Annis siquidem quatuor decern solivagua ac toto 

corpore nudus, montibus et silvis pro Christo amore oberrans et 
lalitans perduravit, coslum habens pro tecto, aerem pro vestimento, 
pecorinum victum pro cibo humano. Ten years, vi'ithout flinching 
from his purpose, the hermit lived abroad ; but at length yielded x 
little to the weakness of nature. Postmodum autem quatuor fere 
annis ante suam dormitionem, in corde hyemis, bruma saeviente 
asperrima, cum tellus, nivibus obruta, et gelu acriore coercita, nee 
berbas foris exsereret, nee radices effodi sineret; tunc a facie famis 
e.t hujus frigoris sustinere non prasvalens, tandem ut homo jam fere 
praemortuus, obeso corpore^ pelle sola oircumdatus, cogebatur interdum 
de,?erta de.serere, atque ad proxima rura, volendo nolendo, descender© 



76 FANATICISM 

travagance under the impulse of genuine passions, and 
who, at the outset, might have been looked at with 
"wonder, if not admiration, degenerates into the char- 
latan or public fool. 

3d. It is not till after the fanatic has acquired some 
familiarity with self-inflicted torments, and is at ease 
in his character of voluntary martyr, and especially 
until he believes himself to have reached a vantage 
ground in relation to Vindictive Powers, that he 
entertains the bold ambition of undertaking to suffer 
vicariously for those who may be less resolute than 
himself.* 

Master of a fund of supererogatory merit — how 
shall he dispose of it to best advantage ? Can any 

* "VVe pass by, as uninstructive, the gross examples of this kind of 
fanaticism which might be brought from India or Thibet, and rather 
adduce instances which, though milder in appearance, may welt 
amaze us more. Let us listen to St. Bernard : Videtur quidem et in 
nostris aliquando tribulationibus esse nonnulla hbertas, cum vide- 
licet pro peccatis proximorwm^ libera et liberal! caritate, laborem 
pcenitentiae sustinemus, lug»ntes pro eis, jejunantes pro eis, vapulantes 
pre eis, et quad non rapuimus exsolventes. — (De Diversis, Serm. 34, 
c. 3.) Yet the pious and respectable abbot of Clairvaux was not the 
inventor of this doctrine ; nor on the other hand , had it reached its 
maturity in his time ; indeed his own language is often irreconcileable 
with the preposterous notion of supererogatory merit. Ubi ergo 
macula propria, propria quoque purgatio jure requiretur, says he ; 
but in the very same sermon (de Diversis, 38) he leaves room for the 
then nascent error. — Per multas enim tribulationesin regnum Dei 
intrare necesse est ; et nemo nisi per tribulationes ingreditur, aut 
proprias, aiit alienas. An indistinct belief of a transferable merit in 
the good works and voluntary penances of the saints, is to be traced 
in many of the Christian writers from the fourth century and onward. 
Sed quid mirum, says St. Gregory (Pope) si ad absolutionem pecca- 
toris propria merita suffragantur, quando in sacri eloquii auctoritate 
discamus, quia alii pro aliis liberati sunt ? — (In I. Regwn, c. 14.) 
And Ambrose, (de Posnit. lib. i. c. 15.) . . . . Ut per universos ea quae 
superflua sunt in aliquo poenitentiam agente virilis misericordiae aut 
compassionis velut collativa quadam admixitone purgentur. Or again 
{Expos. Luc. c. 5.) Sigraviura peccatorum diffidis veniam, adhibe pre- 
catores, adhibe Ecclesiam qure pro te precetur, cujus contemplatione 
quod tibi Dominus negare posset, ignoseat. The task is unpleasing* 
and invidious to gather proofs of fatal error from the pages of writers 
who, taken altogether, are worthy of respect — often of admiration* 
We stop short then with the specimens above adduced. 



OP TfiE SCOURGE. "77 

thing be more noble than to dispense the hardly- 
acquired treasure among feeble souls, who are quite 
destitute of that in which he is rich ? Absurdities such 
as this if not now common, nevertheless, have in past 
ages often prevailed, and are not only what may be 
looked for if we calculate the influence of certain mo- 
tives upon the common principles of human nature. 
That law of our mental conformation has already been 
adverted to which makes it highly difficult, or quite 
impracticable, to kindle the imagination within the 
home-circle of selfish interests. The fanatic, therefore, 
all whose sentiments are more or less dependent upon 
that faculty, very soon feels a need — a craving, which 
not even the most egregious illusions of self-love can 
satisfy. He must then spread himself over a larger 
surface, and take up many more elements of emotion. 
Every mind, and especially a mind highly sensitive, 
seeks some object of meditation the dimensions of 
which it does not exactly measure. In moments of 
depression, in hours of languor, we want a defence 
against the chilling calculations of mere reason. And 
the more a man's course of life is substantially absurd 
the more urgent need has he of a store of vague 
unlimited motives, such as shall be in no danger of an 
assault from common sense. When the fanatic has 
began to tire on his wearisome pilgrimage of woe, 
how may he reanimate his purpose if he can think 
himself a public person who has freely become respons- 
ible for other men's salvation ; and especially if he can 
believe that the Vindictive Powers whom he is hold- 
ing at bay with a strong arm, are watching for the fall 
of so notable a champion, and would rush upon the 
spoil were he to faint ! 

And besides ; it is only by heading-up the merit of 
penance to such a height as that there shall always be 
a large amount in store, that the public martyr can 
feel to be himself quite secure against the demands of 
justice. — May not a man who is every day expiating 
the sins of others assume it as certain that his own are 

8* 



78 FANATICISM 

discharged ? — Thus the warfare against ghostly exact- 
ors is carried on upon advanced ground ! and the 
knight-spiritual has a space in the rear to which, if 
pressed, he may retreat. 

A contrast, curious at least, and perhaps instructive, 
presents itself, when we bring into comparison the 
Mohammedan and Popish superstitions, on the ground 
of the encouragement they have severally given to the 
practice of voluntary inflictions. Now it appears that, 
while the former has not been exempt from extrava- 
gances of this order, they have always constituted a 
main element of the latter ; the Romish polity and 
doctrine having both broadly rested upon the principle 
(variously applied) of personal austerity. More causes 
than can be soon enumerated have concurred to pro- 
duce this marked difference between the religions of 
Asia and of Europe. — The oriental faith burst upon the 
world, full-orbed, among an energetic and enterprising 
race. It was the religion of men, and the faith of war- 
riors. But the faith of the West was the slow-born 
creature of the cloister — the religion of recluses and 
of priests ; the child of sour and mopish imbecility. 
The one w^as modelled in the youthful season of national 
existence ; the other during a course of melancholy 
ages which saw the human mind fall back from thp 
high position it once had occupied, to the point of 
extreme depression. 

Yet a somewhat different doctrine of penitential 
infliction has sprung up from intellectual and moral 
degradation in the instance of the Jewish people. 
Nothing can be much more absurd or ludicrous than 
the Rabbinical penances. It is hard to believe that 
the mortification, the abstinence, or the punishment, 
was ever thought of either by those who issued the 
injunction or by those who listened to it, otherwise 
than as an acknowledged mockery. The modern 
children of Abraham, suffering as they have done in 
almost every age, and in every countr}^ substantial 
miseries which might be well reckoned to supersede 



OF THE SCOURGE. 70 

any voluntary pains, and yet not deeming their theol- 
ogy complete without penances, have taken care to 
impose upon themselves such only as were too severe 
to be put in practice, or such as were penal only in 
name. Besides ; the Rabbinical Judaism, with its lum- 
ber of frivolous traditions, has left no room for the 
working of these profounder sentiments whence the 
monkish austerities drew their motive. The religion 
of the modern Jew, what is it but a ponderous vanity, 
under the pressure of which the human bosom may 
hardly heave ? — that bundle of beggarly elements 
which he bears about upon his shoulders, allows 
him not the liberty of emotion which men of other 
creeds enjoy, and which the fanatic of any creed 
must possess.* 

* Maimonides saw in Egypt enough of the follies and horrors of 
monkery to sicken him of austerities. On this subject he speaks like 
a man of sense, and in a strain of which, alas, we hnd few instances 
among the Christian Visiters of the time. He condemns as positively 
sinful, all voluntary inflictions, not directly enjoined by the law, (see 
Bernard's Selections from the Yad Hachazakah, p. 170, and the entire 
chapter). The doctrine of Repentance, as we find it in this writer, 
might with advantage to the Jew be compared with the Romish doc- 
trine on the same point, from the age of Pope Gregory I. to the 
present day. His rule of confession (p. 222) is incomparably more 
sound than that of the doctors of the church. But Maimonides 
must not be taken as a sample of Rabbinical instruction : — he boldly 
appealed to Moses and the prophets. — The Rabbis issued nothing 

which they did not first deform and render absurd. Clui, &c 

diebusque asstivis accedat ad locum plenum formicarum, inter quag 
nudus sedeat. Diebus vero hybernis, frangat glaciem, et in aquis 

sedeat usque ad nares. Clui, &c sedeatque in aquis diebus 

hybernis, quantum temporis requiritur ad coquendum ovum. Q.ui, 

&c jejunet quadraginta dies continues, atque singulis diebus 

vapulet bis, ant ter. Q,ui, &c sedeat in nive et gelu per horani 

unam singulis diebus; sic faciat per totani hyemem quotidie semel, 
aut bis. Diebus vero oestivis objiciat se muscis, sive vespis et apibus; 
aliosve posnas subeat morti similes. That these penances were 
matters of form only one might infer from the fact that a forty 
days' fast is enjoined upon whosoever exacts usury (interest) and 
that the taking of interest even from the Gentiles is reprobated. 
See the book called Reschit Cochma, as quoted by the annotator in 
Raimond Martin's Pugio Fidei. It is curious to observe that the 
practice of penance has never comported with the sealiments and 
habits of a trading people. 



80 ]?ANATICISM 

But to return to Mohammed, and to mention spe- 
cific causes, it must be noted that the Arabian teacher, 
by means of his prime doctrine of the merit of mili- 
tary service undertaken for the propagation of the 
true faith, and by the large and attractive rewards 
promised to pious valour, appropriated, to the enter- 
prises of active life, all those springs of action which, 
when left to pend upon the conscience, impel men to 
inflict upon themselves expiatory torments. Beings 
of the very same native temperament who, in Chris- 
tian countries, clad themselves in hair-cloth, and mer- 
cilessly twanged the scourge over their own shou.1- 
ders, put on, in the East, the caparison of war, and 
wielded the cimeter, and this because the Koran 
offers paradise to those who die in battle.'*^ 

A subsidiary means of diverting the fanaticism of 
personal austerity was also the importance attached 
by Mohammed to alms-giving — almost the only posi- 
tive virtue of his system. The aspirant to immortal 
sensualities could not indeed every day wet his sword 
in the blood of infidels ; but he miojht at all times 
purchase, if not always conquer for himself the future 
pleasures. Or if the system still seemed to want a 
vent for those feelings which give rise to ascetic 
practices, it was found in the rigour and universal 
obligation of the annual fast, which aflforded to every 
Moslem such a taste of mortification as might eflfec- 
tively cool the ambition of voluntary hunger. — The 

* Verily God hath purchased of the true believers their souls and 
their substance, promising them the enjoyment of paradise, on con- 
dition that they fight for the cause of God : whether they slay or be 
slain, the promise for the same is assuredly due by the law, the 
gospel, and the Koran. And who performeth his contract more 
faithfully than God ? When ye encounter the unbelievers, strike off 
their heads until ye have made a great slaughter among them, and 

bind them in bonds And as to those who fight in defence 

of God's true religion, God will not suffer their works to perish : he 
will guide them and will dispose their heart aright, and he will lead 
thiem into paradise, of which he hath told them. {Sale's Koran, c. 9 
and 27.) We shall presently find occasion to match these passages 
with some of similar import from other quarters. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 81 

frantic austerities of the Dervish did not spring out of 
the Mohammedan theology ; but either grew upon it ; 
or have been merely farcical and mercenary ; or have 
been practised in continuation of idolatrous usages 
which the faith of the Prophet did not extirpate.* 

The Romish Superstion embraced many more ele- 
ments of meditative emotion, and those of a more 
profound sort than were included in the Koran. Al- 
though if we are to speak of it as a whole, and espe- 
cially if we have in view its condition in the eigth and 
ninth centuries, Popery was a more corrupt system 
than that of the Arabian prophet, so that Mohammed 
and the Caliphs may almost claim the praise of reli- 
gious Reformers ; yet did it retain those potent princi- 
ples of hope and fear — of remorse and compunction, 
of tenderness too, and of keen sensibility, which put 
the soul into deep commotion, and set it working upon 
itself. On the contrary, Mohammed, by strangely 
admitting into his theology the expectation of a sensual 
paradise, the pleasures of which were not to differ in 
substance from the delights of an oriental palace, 
effectively cashiered from his system every pure and 
spiritual conception of virtue. f For if the heaven 
which a man is thinking of as his last home be grossly 
voluptuous, of what avail will be fine abstract axioms 
or grave discourses to teach him purity ? 

* Sooffeeism, with its varieties, is a far more ancient and a more 
widely spread system than the doctrine of the prophet. The philo- 
sophic pantheist of Persia and Upper India, the frantic fakir, and the 
dervish, are personages of all times, and of almost all countries. 
The ascetic tribe is older than history, and presents the same 
general features wherever we meet with it. In reading Arrian's 
account of the Bramins, or Sophists, as he calls them, of India, one 
might believe he was describing so many Romish saints. Ow rot 
yvfivo) ^ictiravrx\ o\ cfo<ptc-Ta) {Indian Hist.). The Koran neither 
created nor cherished infatuations of this kind. 

t The contemplative or more refined class of Moslems have stre- 
nuously endeavoured to put a figurative construction upon those 
passages of the Koran which describe Paradise, and have maintained 
that the prophet never intended to be literally understood. The 
mass of his followers have taken things as they found them. 



82 FANATICISM 

No perversion such as this ever gained ground 
among Christian nations, even in their lowest state of 
religious degradation. And as some spiritual concep- 
tions of the Divine character, as we\[ as some just 
notions of the sanctity of the upper world were 
generally prevalent, the correspondent belief of the 
guilt and danger of man as a sinner retained its force. 
Nevertheless as, at the same time, the genuine and 
evangelic scheme of remission of sins was nullified, or 
quite forgotten, the tormented conscience was left to 
contend as it could with the dread of future retri- 
bution. 

The doctrine of Purgatory sprang up naturally in 
the bosoms of men from this mortal conflict of fear 
and conscious guilt, with the obscure hope of impunity; 
and although the " fond thing, vainly invented, and 
grounded upon no warranty of Scripture," may be 
traced in its elements to very early times, and although 
it became at length, in its practical bearing, a device 
well adapted to serve the purposes of a rapacious 
priesthood, it should be regarded, in its essence, as 
nothing more than the proper product of elevated and 
spiritual notions of virtue, cut off from that solace 
which the Gospel affords. Some opinion equivalent 
to the doctrine of purgatory, has been seen, even in 
our own times, to be associated with the two con- 
ditions, namely — a damaged Gospel, and a severe 
morality. 

It belongs to another subject, namely Superstition, 
to trace the origin and growth of the doctrine of Pur- 
gatory. This ancient and widely-diffused dogma went 
hand in hand with that which led to the invocation of 
saints, and the belief of their efficient intercession in 
the court of heaven. The latter doctrine seems to 
have been ripened, or to have reached a definite form 
rather earlier than the former ; nor is the mode of its 
birth quite so obscure. When at length both had 
become the accredited doctrine of the church, a brisk 
commerce between the visible and invisible worlds 



OF THE SCOURGE. 83 

was carried on, and in this traffic the clergy were the 
brokers and the gainers — the gainers to an incalculable 
amount.* 

The idea of future expiatory torments having lodged 
itself firmly in all serious and devout minds, no other 
consequence could be looked for but the practice of 
penitentiary inflictions, having for their motive the 
hope of abating the demands of justice in the region 
of chastisement. The most excessive abstinence, a 
shirt of haircloth, a bed of straw, continued watchings, 



* Not only the doctrine of Purgatory, but the practical abuses of 
it, stand forth almost in the grossest form in the writings of Gregory 
the Great ; and it would be really hard to choose between the faith of 
the Christian Pope, on this subject, and that of his contemporarj' — 
Mohammed; — both announcing eternal damnation as the doom of 
the uninstructed mass of mankind ; and both preaching a purgatorial 
state to those whose religious advantages were of the highest kind. 
Assuredly the Koran is more free from suspicion of a sinister purpose 
on this point than are the Dialogues of Greffory: — if indeed these 
dialogues can be trusted to as the unalte7-ed productions of the f.vriter 
to whom they are attributed j — or are his productions at all — a point 
deemed questionable. 

A service perhaps might be rendered to sincere and candid Ro- 
manists if the history of this doctrine — a capital article in his belief, 
and one which he knows to be of high antiquit}', could be satisfactorily 
traced. Our materials, it is to be feared, are too scanty to sustain the 
inquiry ; for between the close of the apostolic age and the time of 
Cyprian or TertuUian, more is wanted than actually exists to enable 
us to give a good account of the state of the opinion as we find it in 
the pages of those two writers. The expression so often quoted by 
the Romanists, from TertuUian, — Oblationes pro defunctis, pro 
natalitiis annua die facimus {de Corona) is not of itself conclusive ; 
but becomes so as compared with other passages. Die mihi soror, in 
pace pvaeraisisti virum tuum ? Gluid respondebit ? An in discordia? 
Ergo hoc magis ei vincta est, curu quo habet apud Deum causam. . . 
Enimvero et pro anima ejus orat, et refrigerium interim adpostulat 
ei, et in prima resurrectione consortium, et offert annuls diebus 
dormitionis ejus. {De Monogam). Everyone has seen quotations 
to the same effect from Cyprian, Clemens Alexandrinus, and Cyril of 
Jerusalem. But in these, and similar instances, the true import of 
certain phrases is to be gathered from each writer's general strain on 
those topics which are most nearly allied to the opinion in question: 
especially on the subject of repentance and remission of sins. The 
doctrine of purgatory, it is pretty evident, sprang out of an early 
corruption of those principal articles. Here we find a confusion of 
notions, and a perverted exposition of Scripture, in almost the earliest 
of the Christian writers 



84 FANATICISM 

perpetual silence, sanguinary flagellations, and positive 
tortures, were willingly resorted to as assuagements 
of the dread which the belief of purgatory inspired ; 
and if we are to wonder at all in looking at these 
severities, our amazement must be, not that men could 
be found who were willing to submit heartily and 
permanently to the rule of St. Benedict, or St. Dom- 
inic ; but rather that the miseries of the monastic life 
were not carried to a much greater extent than we 
actually find them ordinarily to have reached. It 
would not have seemed strange if sincere believers in 
the doctrine of purgatory had gone the length of the 
ancient worshippers of Baal, or of the modern devotees 
of Indian divinities.* 

It is in the glare of a doctrine such as this that we 
should peruse the rules of the ascetic life, and the 
blood-stained story of the monastery. Is it any won- 
der that men who first had tortured themselves at the 
instigation of this belief should think it a light matter 
to ply the rack and the brand upon others ? — The fan- 
aticism of austerity was proper parent of the fanati- 
cism of cruelty. But the mild and meditative spirit 
of Christianity happily came in to moderate, in some 
degree, that extravagance into w^hich the human mind 
naturally runs when highly excited by a ferocious the- 
ology. — The Christian flagellist might, it is probable, 
draw as much blood from his back in a vear, as did the 
frantic priest of Moloch from his sides and arms ; — or 

* The Romish writers use no reserve in describing the pains of 
the purg;atorial state ; and as they have, in the doctrine itself, supphed 
to the Church an article on which Scripture is silent; so, in furnish- 
ins the particulars, have they drawn largely upon that special knowl- 
edge of" the infernal regions which their privileged commerce with 
invisibles has supplied. "A soul," says the Rev. Alban Butler, "for 
one venial sin shall suffer more than all the pains of distempers, the 
most violent colics, gout, and stone, joined in complication ; more 
than all the most cruel torments undergone by malefactors, or in- 
vented by the most barbarous tyrants; more than all the tortures of 
the martyrs summed up together. This is the idea which the fathers 
give us of purgatory, and how long many souls may have to Buffer 
there we know not." — Lives of the Saints, Novem. 2. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 85 

perhaps more ; but yet it were better done with the 
Scourge than with the Knife. The Romish fanaticism 
did not rise to a horrid and murderous pitch until after 
it had become the instrument of sacerdotal rancour, 
and had been directed against the heretic. 

The derivation of fanatical cruelty from fanatical 
austerity it is by no means difficult to trace ; nor 
is the line of descent far extended. Often indeed 
has the one generated the other in the same bosom ; 
or if the history of the Church is looked to it will be 
seen that, within the circuit of a century, or more, 
those outrages upon human nature which had been 
going on in the cells of the monastery, and those pre- 
posterous sentiments which the ascetic hfe enkindled, 
reached their proper consummation when the friar and 
inquisitor took in hand to rid the church of her ene- 
mies. Far was any such consequence from the minds 
of the early and illustrious promoters of the monastic 
system ; but though not foreseen by them, it demands 
to be attentively regarded by us, since the instruction 
which history conveys is drawn from considering, 
rather the commencements than the issues, rather the 
germs than the fruits, of whatever excites admiration 
or surprise upon the stage of the world's affairs. 

And so, if it be intended to receive in the most effi- 
cacious manner those lessons of practical wisdom 
which spring from the contemplation of individual 
character, we must select as specimens, not the most 
distorted instances ; but those rather wherein the 
peculiar tendency we have in view is moderated by 
fine qualities of the heart, or lost almost amid the splen- 
dour of rare mental powers and accomplishments. — 
For inasmuch as it is only when so recommended that 
spurious virtues produce extensive ill effects, our cau- 
tion against the evil should be drawn from examples of 
that very order. Let the sardonic historian, whose 
rule it is to exhibit human nature always as an object 
of mockery, crowd his pages with whatever is most 
preposterous in its kind. — A better motive will lead us 

9 



86 FANATICISM 

to bring forward the worthiest exemplars ; and yet 
not as if the illustrious dead were to be exhibited that 
it might be said of them how little were the great ! but 
rather that the admonition, of whatever kind, which 
the instance presents may come with the fullest force. 
Forgetting then the frenzied anchorets of the Egyp- 
tian deserts, of the rocks of Sinai, and of the solitudes of 
Syria, and leaving unnamed the savage heroes of the 
Romish calendar,* let us take an instance in which a 
due admiration of great qualities must mingle with our 
reprobation of mischievous sentiments. Instead of a 
St. Symeon, or a St. Columban ,we turn to Basil — the 
primate of Cappadocia.f 

*No literary enterprise can well be named, or perhaps thought of 
more undesirable — more humiliating — at least if a man retains any 
feeling of self respect, than that which the worthy and learned author 
of the Lives of the Saints has executed. — The Romish Church is rich 
in the boast of upwards of a thousand saints — a number so large that 
she is able to allot as many as three or four glorious patrons, on an 
average, to each day of the year! Now most men would think it a 
formidable task to undertake merely a cold apology of every one of 
any thousand frail human beings that could be brought together in a 
list. But what must it be, not simply to excuse, but to commend 
every one of a thousand? And what, not only to commend but to 
find proof that every one is a fit object of adoration, and an efficacious 
mediator between God and man ! Yet such is the achievment that 
signalizes the name of Alban Butler! A thousand saints, one after 
another, to be hoisted upon the pedestal of canonization, or defended 
there! Truly one of the loftiest of these enviable standing places 
should be reserved for the author himself! Those who, without a 
cause to serve, or a church to prop (or to pull down) look calmly at 
human nature as it is, and who read historj' for themselves, will, with 
a sort of mournful contempt bring into comparison the foolish 
exaggerations of Butler on the one hand, and the malign misrepre- 
sentations of Gibbon on the other ; and will learn to hold very 
cheap, as well eulogists as calumniators, when it is truth we are ia 
search of. 

I Let ninetj'-nine of every hundred of the Saints of the Calendar 
retain their title. If the Romanists please, it shall be Saint George, 
Saint Dunstan, Saint Dominic, and so forth ; but we are disposed to 
withhold the sullied honour from the few whom we believe, notwith- 
standing the misfortune of their canonization, to have been good and 
honest men, and sincere Christians. And certainly we so think of 
Basil of Cappadocia. He governed the churches of that province 
rather more than eight years, during the reigns of Valentinian and 
Valens. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 81^ 

But how obtain the simple and living truth in the 
instance we have chosen ? Nothing belonging to that 
age in which the Church ascended to the place of 
worldly greatness is to be found in its native form and 
real colours. Flattery and clerical arrogance confound 
all distinctions, violate all modesty, and in the inter- 
ested idolatry of human excellence, commit frightful 
outrages upon the just rules of piety. Those calum- 
niators of his friend and patron against whom Gregory 
Nazianzen invieghs,* could not have injured the true 
fame of Basil so fatally as himself has done by his 
hyperbolic encomiums. We turn as well with suspi- 
cion as disgust from the turgid oration,f and are fain 
to relinquish the attempt to rescue a good and accom- 
plished man from the suffocating embrace of his eulo- 
gist. Well might a warning be taken by the Church, 
even now, against the danger of indulging the spirit of 
exaggeration and of fond adulatory regard to the illus- 
trious dead. It was this very spirit as much as any 
other influence we can name, which effected the ruin 
and hastened the corruption of early Christianity. — 
Hence, directly, sprang some of the very worst errors 
which in a matured state strengthened the despotism 
of Rome, and made its services idolatrous, and its 
practices abominable. 

A reasonable distaste of the inflation which offends 
the eye so often on the pages of the early Christian 



♦See the funeral oration in praise of Basil, Morell's Greg. Nazi- 
anzen, 16S0, Tom. I. pp. 360, 363. 

fThe twentieth oration above referred to, S'n'iTci<P(Oij in which 
Gregory exhausts the powers of language in the service of his 
deceased friend and spiritual father; upon whom indeed, while 
living he had lavished the hyperpolas of praise ; as in the sixth, 
eevonth, and nineteenth orations, and in various places of his 
Epistles. Could the simplicity of the Gospel, and the honour of 
Christ comport with that style of adulation which in the age of 
Gregory was accredited and common in the Church ? The epistle, 
the nineteenth, in which he excuses himself from the charge of 
neglecting his friend, would astound the modern reader. No wonder 
that those should have fallen into an idolatry of the saints in heaven, 
who had already gone so far in worshipping one another. 



88 ' FANATICISM 

writers (as well as motives of indolence or levity) 
has almost cut us off from correspondence with 
the worthies of the ancient Church ; so that men 
whose vigour of mind, whose copious eloquence, and 
whose universal learning, should attract us to the pe- 
rusal of their works, are little more thought of than the 
demigods of the Grecian mythology. Yet undoubt- 
edly by this oblivion we not only forfeit the advantage 
of justly estimating things that are, by comparison with 
things that have been ; but fail of that special and 
highly important benefit which an exact knowledge of 
history conveys, namely — a timely caution against the 
first inroads of insidious errors and spurious senti- 
ments. 

It may be too much to aflirm that Basil, eminent as 
were his qualities, or indeed that any single mind could 
have turned the tide which, at the opening of the fourth 
century, was in full course, bearing the Christian 
world — eastern and western, fast toward that swamp 
of superstition wherein all its virtues were soon after 
lost. Yet it is certain that although he might not have 
had power to divert the course of things, his influence 
was great and extensive in accelerating the unhappy 
movement. As w^ellinthe Latin as the Greek Church,, 
and during many successive centuries, the writings of 
Basil formed the text book of monkery, and gave sanc- 
tion to its follies.* His friend and biographer assures 
us, and his own writings attest the fact, that, not like 



* The praises of Basil and of his institutions are on the lips of 
most of the contemporary an(] succeeding church writer?, as well 
Latins as Greeks ; and most of the oriental monkish establishments 
were founded upon the model of which he was ihe author. Isidore, 
(Lib. I. Epist. 61,) reproaches one who, while he professed high regard 
to the words of our divinely inspired fathkr — Basil, practically set 
his authority at naught. Equivalent expressions are employed by 
other writers. By a strange catachresis the monastic rule was called 
generally by the writers of that age (as by Isidore in the epistle here 
referred to) xotvm ^i\ocrQ(piu<i, and the institution itself the true and 
divine philosophy. See a fond and frequent use of this phrase in the 
epistles of Gregory Nazianzen. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 89 

many who so long as their private interests go well^ 
trouble themselves not at all on account of the evils 
that may prevail abroad, Basil anxiously occupied 
himself with whatever concerned the welfare of the 
Christian community throughout the world :* and 
seeing the Church " split into ten thousand sects, and 
distracted with errors,"f laboured, as well by his writ- 
ings as by personal interposition, to remedy the exist- 
ing evils. Nor were his labours without fruit. The 
specific heresies with which he contended were held 
in check by his eloquence, and by the weight of his 
personal character. — False dogmas he discerned, and 
refuted ; but alas, the false temper of the times — the 
universal w rong tendency of men's notions of religion 
and piety, this he did not discern ; on the contrary, 
while fighting with errors in the detail, himself im- 
mensely promoted the grand error which had already 
poisoned the Church, and which, after a century or 
two, laid her prostrate as a corrupting carcase. So 
it is that what is special we can see : what is general 
escapes our notice. — A hundred times, while following 
Basil through his track of cogent argument and splen- 
did illustration, one stops to ask. Why did not so com- 
prehensive and penetrating an intelligence question 
itself, and question the Christian body, concerning the 

o-aTYjfioi \dyoq iTrs^pxf^ev. Greg. INaz. Orat. 20. His assertion is 
borne out by several passages in Basil's own writings, from which it 
appears that the state of the Church universal was the subject of his 
frequent (and not very happy) meditations : for i-nstance, in his treatise 
on the Holy Spirit, c. 30, where, with admirable force of language 
and vigour of conception, he makes a comparison between the 
distracted state of the Church, and a sea-fight during a storm: or 
again in that remarkable epistle to the bishops of the West, in which 
he entreats them to send delegates to the eastern church, who might 
raise it from the dust. The same catholic and patriarchal solicitude 
appears in his epistles to Athanasius, and in those of similar import, 
to the bishops of Gaul and Italy. Basil's monasticism did not at all 
seclude him from public interests. 

'j" . . . sii re [^.vpiecs 6o^ai )c»i -rkaveci hso-7r<tTf4>hov, 

9* 



90 FANATICISM 

soundness of its first principles of practical piety? 
Why not inquire whether a system of conduct mani- 
festly at variance with the course of nature, and with 
the constitutions of the social economy, was indeed en- 
joined by Scripture, or could, in its issue, be safe and 
advantageous? Not a surmise of this sort, so far as 
we can find, ever disturbed the meditations of the 
Cappadocian primate. — No; — but these only may 
fairly blame and wonder who themselves are habituat- 
ed to entertain and indulge severe inquiries concerning 
the opinions and usages they most zealously affect. 

Far from seeming fanatical or malignant, the mon- 
astic system, as it stands on the shining pages of Basil, 
bears quite a seductive form. His descriptions of his 
own seclusion among the mountains of Pontus, and 
of the pleasures of abstracted meditation and holy ex- 
ercise, can hardly be read without kindling an enthu- 
siasm of the same order.* In his ascetic rules too 

* It was customary with the monks of a later age to select for the 
site of their estabHshmenls the most horrid and pestilential swamps, 
and this professedly with the intention of mortifying the senses, and 
of rendering life as undesirable and as brief too as possible. Not so 
Basil : fully alive to the beauties of nature, he exults in his enjoyment 
of them. The following description though perhaps too long for a 
note, tempts us to turn aside a moment from our path. Addressing 
the friend of his youth, Basil says — In Pontus God hath shewn me a 
spot precisely suited to my turn of mind and habits. — In truth it is 
the very scene which heretofore, while idly musing I had been wont 
to picture to myself. It is a lofty mountain, enveloped in dense 
forests: on its northern front it is watered by gelid streams that 
sparkle to the eye as they descend. At the foot of the hill a grassy 
plain spreads itself out, and luxuriates in the moisture that distils 
perpetually from the heights. Around the level space the woods, 
presenting trees of every species, take an easy sweep, so as to form a 
natural rampart. Calypso's isle, so much praised by Homer, ope 
might contemn in comparison with this spot: in fact itself might 
almost be called an island, since it is completely encircled and shut 
in — on two sides, by deep and precipitous ravines; on another, by 
the fall of a never-failing torrent, not easily forded, and which like a 
•v^all excludes intruders. In the rear the jagged and uneven heights, 
with a semicircular turn, rise from the skirts of the plain, and deny 
access, except through a single pass, of which we are masters. My 
habitation occupies the ridge of a towering height, whence the land- 
scape, with the many bends of the river, spreads itself fairly to the 
view, and presents, altogether a prospect not inferior, as I think, in 



OF THE SCOURGE. 91 

there is very much of admirable and elevated senti- 
ment, and of scriptural discretion ; as w^ell as a thorough 
orthodoxy. More easy is it to yield the heart and judg- 
ment to the persuasive influence of the writer, than to 
stand aloof, and call in question his principles. 

Nor perhaps, apart from the aid of that comment 
which the after history of the Church has made upon 
those principles, would it have been easy to demon- 
strate their pernicious tendency: and yet there is little 
or nothino- among: the enormities of the ascetic life 
which might not be justified on the grounds assumed 
by Basil : — as for example, That the domestic consti- 
tution of man is abstractedly imperfect, and irrecon- 
cilable with high attainments in piety.* — That Religion 

gay atlraclions, to that which is offered by the course of the river 
Strymon, as seen from AmphipoHs. That stream indeed moves so 
shjgwishly in its bed, as hardly to deserve the name of river; but 
this on the contrary (the most rapid I have ever seeri) rushes on to 
a neigiibourinof rock, whence thrown off, it tumbles into a deep vortex 
in a manner that excites the admiration of every beholder. From the 
reservoir thus formed we are abundantly supplied with water, nor only 
so, for it nourishes in its stormy bosom a multitude of fishes. "What 
might I not say of the balmy exhalations that arise from this verdant 
region, or of the breezes that attend the flow of the river ? or some 
perhaps would rather speak of the endless variety of flowers that 
adorn the ground, or ot^ the innumerable singing birds that make our 
woods their home. For my own part, my mind is too deeply 
engaged to give much attention to these lesser matters. To our 
commendation of this seclusion we are moreover able to add the 
praise of an xmbounded t'ruilfulness in all kinds of produce, favoured 
as it is by its position and soil To me its principal charm (and a 
greater cannot be) is this — that it yields me the fruits of tranquillity. 
For not only is the region far remote from the tumult of cities, but it 
is actually unfrequented by travellers of any sort, a few huntsmen 
excepted, who make their way hither in search of the game which 
abounds in it. This indeed is another of its advantages; for though 
we lack the ferocious bear and the wolf that afflict your country, we 
have deer and goats, sylvan flocks, and hares, and other animals of 
the sort 

Who would not turn monk if he might lead the angelic life in a 
paradise such as that of Basil ? 

* Throughout the ascetic writings of Basil every thing commend- 
able or desirable in the spiritual economy is assumed to attach 
exclusively to that mode of life which could be followed only in the 
monastery ; nor does he think it practicable to maintain faith and 
virtue in the open world, or while encompassed with the cares and 



92 . FANATICISM 

— or at least that the only admirable order of religion, 
consists — not in the worthy and fruitful exercise of 
virtuous principles amid the occasions and trials of 
common life ; but in cutting off all opportunities of 
exercise, and in retreating from every trial of con- 
stancy : — That, in a word, piety is a something which 
in every sense is foreign to the present state, and can 
flourish only in proportion as its laws and constitutions 
are contemned and discarded. 

The first practical measure necessary for giving 
effect to maxims such as these, was of course that of 
breaking up the conjugal economy, and of gathering 
men and women (destined by God for each other as 
sharers in the joys of life, and helpers in its labours 
and sorrows) into horrid fraternities and comfortless 
sisterhoods of virginity.* This violence once done to 
nature — -and then every lesser enormity was only a 
proper consequence and a consistent part of the 
monstrous invention. All fanaticism — all cruelties, all 



duties Tov KoivoZ (iiov. Not so Paul and Peter. In a letter to his 
friend Gregory Nazianzen, after describing the distractions of ordinary 
life, and the cares of matrimony, he says^ — From all which there is 
only one way of escape — namely, an entire separation from this 
world; — uot indeed a being absent from it corporeally; but a rending 
of the soul from every bodily affection ; — to be no ciiizen — to have 
no home — no property — no friends — to be destitute, and in absolute 
want — to have no concerns or occupation — to be cut off from 
commerce with the world — to be ignorant of human learning; — and 
80 to prepare the heart for the due reception of the divine instructions. 
Such were the principles which this good man diffused throughout the 
Christian world : — himself did by no means carry them out fully into 
practice — this part was left for his admirers. So it is that great 
minds indulge in exaggerations which small minds interpret literally 
to their cost. It would be useless to quote fifty passages of like 
import — a hundred might be found. 

* The author of the Lives of the Saints would fain rid the repu- 
tation of St. Basil of the ambiguous honour of having written the 
tract on Virginity. If there be a doubt on this point, we will assuredly 
give the Archbishop and the Monk of Coesarea the benefit of it. 
Whether it be his or not, the doctrine it maintains is in substance, 
though not in so unpleasing a form, found in his unquestioned writ- 
ings. The passages that might the most aptly be quoted in this 
instance, are best left in their concealment of Greek. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 93. 

impurities were in embr} o within this egg.* Strange 
does it seem — or strange to us of this age ; that the 
authors and promoters of the unnatural usage, while 
reading the evangehc records, did not see that the 
virtue of our Lord and of his Apostles, if we are not 
to think it quite inferior to that of which the monks 
made their boast, was altogether unlike it, and must 
have been founded on different maxims. Of our Lord 
it is said that he was continually accompanied in his 
journeys by women who " ministered unto him.'' 
But the doctors of monkery assure us that the society 
of woman is altogether pernicious^ and wholly incom- 
patible with advancement in the Christian life; — yes, 
that the mere touch of a female hand is mortal to 
sanctity !f The sanctity of the monk then, and the 
purity of the Son of God had not, it is manifest, any 
kindred elements. — Of the Apostles and first disciples 
it is said that they consorted together " with the 
women," and throughout the history of the Acts 
nothing appears to have attached to the manners of 
Christians that was at variance with the genuine sim- 
plicity and innocence which is the characteristic of a 
virtuous intercourse of the sexes. The " angelic life," 
described and lauded by every Father, from Tertul- 
lian, to the Abbot of Clairvaux, is not any where to 
be. traced in the authentic story of the first and purest 
years of the Christian Institution. Why was not a 
fact so conspicuous perceived by Chrysostom, by 
Gregory, by Basil ? Alas ! such is the original limita- 
tion, or such the superinduced infatuation of the 
human mind, that, when once it takes a wrong path, 
not the most eminent powers of reason, nor the most 
extensive accomplishments avail to give it a suspicion 
of its error ! 



* The subject of celibac}^ and its influence on the character, must 
again, and more copiously be treated. See next section. 

f We turn for a moment from Basil, who nevertheless is strong 
on this point. "^So far as possible," says Isidore, "all converse 
with women is to be shunned: or if this cannot altogether be 



94 FANATICISM 

All that could be done by a vigorous and compre- 
hensive mind, well furnished with Scriptural prin- 
ciples, to render the monastic institute as good as its 
nature admitted, was actually effected by Basil •* and 
his ascetic writings — his Rules, the longer and the 
shorter, and his monastic constitutions, if they could, 
in translation, be purged of their characteristic ascetic 
cism, would form an excellent and edifying body of 
instructions in the practice of piety. — But our time and 
labour might be better spent. Happily the principles 
and maxims of religion we can draw from purer 
sources ; and while it is unquestionably incumbent 
upon the few who aspire to exercise a correct and com- 
prehensive judgment concerning the various phrases 
of Christianity, to make themselves familiarly conver- 
sant with the voluminous remains of ecclesiastical 
literature, it is certain that the private Christian, with 
the Bible and with modern expositions in his hand, 

avoided, they should be spoken with only, the eye fixed on the 

earth In the case of almost all who have fallen by their means 

death hath entered in, by the windows ! " Lib. I. Epis. 67. Cassian, and 
still more, his commentators, might be quoted at large on matters of 
this sort. Gregory the Great says — Glui corpus suum continen- 
tiae dedicant, habitare cum feminis non presumant ; and he tells a 
long story to enforce his advice. Dialog. Lib. IIL c. 7. Sutpitius 
Severus thinks it necessary to excuse his hero, St. Martin, ia an 
instance (referred to in Nat. Hist, of Enthus. Sect. IX.) in which ho 
had suffered the touch of a woman: and in the same spirit, an 
unknown monkish writer — ^ 

Causa gravis scelerum cessabit amor mulierum. 
Colloquium quarum nil est nisi virus amarum 
Praebens, sub raellis dulcedine, pocula fellis. 

Carman ParcByieticum. 
* Evidence might without difficulty be adduced to prove that the 
monastic institution, such as it had become in the times of Basil, was 
rather corrected and purified, than rendered still more extravagant by 
the influence of his writings. In his own age therefore (if the fact be 
as we presume) he was a Reformer. His influence, on the contrary, 
as extended through succeeding ages, has been to hold in credit a 
system which, but for the support of men like himself, must soon 
have fallen under the general reprobation and contempt of mankind. 
Remove from this institution what Basil, Chrysostom, Ambrose, 
Augustine, and Bernard did to sustain it, and not all the exploits cxf 
a thousand fanatics could have availed to keep it going. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 95 

need not sigh that those treasures are locked up from 
his use. 

In its rancorous stage the fanaticism of austerity is 
not to be looked for in a writer so great and good as 
the Bishop of Csesarea. For instances of this we must 
turn to some of his contemporaries of less note ; and 
to those who afterwards followed in the same track. 
Nevertheless the germs of malignant religionism (such 
as in a preceding section we have briefly stated them 
to be) arc not wanting even in Basil. It is evident, 
for example, that the very serious impressions he en- 
tertained of the Divine Justice, and its bearing upon 
man, were not balanced, as in the minds of the apos- 
tles, by a clear and auspicious understanding of the 
great article of justification by faith : — his faith there- 
fore was comfortless, severe, and dim.* Again, the 
scriptural belief of the agency and malice of infernal 
spirits, had become, in that age, and before it, so turgid 
and extravagant that it filled a far larger space on the 
circle of vision than properly belongs to it. In truth, 
among the monks, the subject of infernal seduction 
quite occupied the mind, to the exclusion almost of 
happier objects of meditation. — The devil, whatever 
may be the title of the piece, is the real hero of the 
drama of monastic piety : — that piety therefore has all 
the proper characters of superstition. | 

* The disorders, the corruption, and the religious feuds of the age 
had evidently affected the mind of Basil in a manner not favourable 
to his dispositions. A genuine lover of solitude, he was a passionate 
admirer of Ideal Perfection, and turned with alarm and distaste, as 
well from the church as the world, in the actual state of both. Yet 
his was a mind of the governing class. From public interests he 
could not refrain ; — not his paradise in the depth of the wilderness 
could hold him, when a sphere of power opened itself before him ; 
but he ascended the archiepiscopal throne an anchoret in heart, more 
even than in discipline and garb ; — might we say, an anchoret by 
imaginative taste. We regard his ascetic writings as the product of 
the original incongruities of his character: seated in the place of power, 
he aimed not so much to govern the church-secular and actual ; and 
as a Latin would have done, as to create or to mould a celestial com- 
munity that should yield itself fully to his plastic hand. 

t At a very early time the beUef of Christians, and especially of 



96 FANATICISM 

Furthermore, the broad distinction made between 
what was insolently termed " the common life," and 
the "angelic," or monastic, and upon which Basil so 
much insists, could not fail to generate, as in fact it did, 
a supercilious disdain of the mass, not of mankind at 
large merely, but of the Christian community, and with 
it, a preposterous conceit (ill concealed beneath the 
cant of humility) of peculiar privilege and celestial 
dignity, as the distinction of a few. Thus was it that 
all the stones of the foundation of the pandemonium 
of pride, impurity, and cruelty, were laid by the hands 
of men whom we must venerate and admire. 

The most benign in its elements, and yet perhaps 
the most destructive in its actual consequences of all 
the forms of fanaticism (under this general head) 
remains to be mentioned ; — we mean the custom of 
pilgrimage. What enterprise can seem more innocent 
than that of a journey to gratify the tranquil yearn- 
ings of pious affection toward a sacred spot? — But 
what usage more fatal, if we look at its products 
through a course of ages ? Well may it be ques- 
tioned whether the most ferocious of the ancient 
superstitions ever made such havoc of human life 
as have the tranquil pilgrimages of the eastern and 
western nations. Even the merciless military exe- 
cutions perpetrated by zealot kings upon their own 
subjects at the instigation of friar-confessors, have 
probably not caused more death and misery than 
pilgrimage has occasioned. The reader might star- 
tle perhaps to hear it affirmed that, looking only to 
modern times, the wars that have raged in different 
parts of Europe and Asia have not wasted the human 

the monks, concerning infernal agency, had assumed a form from 
which nothing could follow but the follies and the horrors of supersti- 
tion. A far extended and exact inquiry would be needed to place 
this subject in a just light. Though intimately connected with the 
rise and maturity of Fanaticism, it is too copious a theme to be en- 
tered upon in this volume. — It demands, however, to be fully consid- 
ered if we would obtain a comprehensive and satisfactory under- 
standing of the early corruption of Christianity, 



OF THE SCOURGE. 97 

species to a greater amount than the noiseless pro- 
cessions that, during the same era, have been stream- 
ing toward the centres of Brahminical, Mohammedan, 
and Romish superstition. 

Travel by sea and land — the latter not less than 
the former, does indeed include a hundred chances of 
death unknown to the resident portion of mankind. 
But journeys prompted by motives of religion seem 
to invite and concentrate every ill chance that can 
possibly belong to a passage from country to country. 
Among the many routes beaten by the foot of man, 
which catch the eye as we look broadly over the 
earth's surface, if there be one that stares out from 
the landscape — -whitened with bones, we shall always 
find it terminate at some holy shrine. A spot made 
important by nothing but the dreams of superstition, 
has become, by the accumulated mortality of ages, 
the very Golgotha of a continent ; and death has fitly 
erected his proudest trophies on the paths that have 
led to the place of a sepulchre. 

Besides other, and incidental reasons of the differ- 
ence, it is enough to say that, while men are engaged 
in mercantile adventure simply, and are acting upon 
the common inducements of worldly interest, they 
naturally foresee dangers, and provide against them, 
but the train of pilgrimage, at first mustered by Folly, 
has renounced as an impiety the guidance of reason, 
and hurrying onward, every day with a more des- 
perate haste than before, has at length poured itself 
as a torrent along the very valley of death. 

It is hard to conjecture to what extent the mischief 
might have reached — especially in those ages when 
the frenzy was at its height, if it had not been 
checked by the saving admixture of grosser motives 
with the pure fanaticism which was its prime impulse. 
How greatly are we often indebted (if pride would 
but own it) to those whispered suggestions of com- 
mon prudence which we should indignantly spurn if 
they dared to utter themselves aloud ! Yes, and in 

10 



98 FANATICISM 

the wondrous complexity of human nature, provisions 
are made for the clogging or diverting of every power 
that tends to run up to a dangerous velocity. Reli- 
gious delusion is in fact found to coalesce readily, on 
the one side with soft sensualities, and on the other — - 
strange amalgam ! — with mercenary calculations. Of- 
tener than can be told has pious heroism slid down by 
a rapid descent into sordid hypocrisy, and the stalking 
devotee of yesterday has become to-day a sheer 
knave. Just so does a torrent tumble from crag to 
crag of the moimtains, and sparkle in the sun as it 
storms along; — until, reaching a level and a slimy 
bed, it takes up the impurity it finds — ^gets sluggish 
as well as foul ; and at length creeps silent through 
the oozy channels of a swamp. 

The wan and wasted pilgrim — shall we call him 
devotee or pedlar? — who left his home warm with 
genuine fervours, unluckily for his reputation, dis- 
covered as he went, the secret of profitable adven- 
ture. Become dealer, either in articles of vulgar 
merchandize,^ or, still better, in the inestimable wares 
of superstition — rags — bones — pebbles — splinters, he 
took his course, barely knowing at length of what sort 
his errand was ; but actually reached his home a 
wealthy trader, who had gone forth a crazy mendi- 
cant. The important effect however of a transmuta- 
tion of motives such as this, was to impart caution 
and forethought to the pilgrim enterprise ; for it is a 
singular inconsistency of human nature that men will 
ordinarily take much more care of life for the sake of 
goods and property, than they will do of life by itself. 
If it had not been for these mitigations, pilgrimage, 
during certain eras, might almost have swallowed up 
the human race in the countries where chiefly the 
madness raged.f 

* See Robertson's Disquisition on India, Sect. 3. 

•]■ It was not merely as venders of relics, or of the productions of 
the east, that the pilgrims found the means of refunding the expenses 
of their journey ; for it appears to have been customarv for them on 



OP THE SCOURGE. 



99 



A portion only of this system of religious vagrancy 
belongs to our immediate subject ; for it is very far 
from being true that all pilgrims have been fanatics. 
Some, as we have said, should be reckoned mere 
traders, or hucksters under pretext of religion ; just 
as valiant knights were often freebooters, under the 
same guise. Some, we cannot doubt, have been in- 
stigated mainly by that taste for adventure and love 
of roving which, in certain bosoms is an irresistible 
impulse. Some, moreover, and not a few, have been 
flogged on, through their weary way, by pure super- 
stitious terror, or by the well-founded dread of the 
future retribution of their enormous crimes. And 
lastly, we must except those (perhaps not many) 
whose motive may have been only a mild poetic 
enthusiasm, wholly free from virulence or gloomy 
fear, and not very difficult to be conceived of, if we 
are ourselves at all open to imaginative sentiments, 
and if we will surrender the fancy awhile to the 
seductive ideas that are called up by long meditation 
of a distant and hallowed region.* 

There was a time — long gone by, when the streams 
of pilgrimage (if the anachronism of the phrase may 

their way borne to perform sacred dramas in the streets and squares 
of the towns through which they passed. Ceux, says a French 

writer, qui revenoient de Jerusalem et de la Terre Sainte, &c 

composoient des cantiques sur leurs voyages, y mfeloient le r§cit de 
la vie et de la mort du Fils de Dieu, ou du Judgment dernier, d'une 
maniere grossiere, mais que le chant et la simplicite de ces temps Ijlt 

sembloient rendre pathetique Ces Pelerins qui alloient par 

troupes, et qui s'arretoient dans les rues et dans les places pubhques 
oil ils chantoienl le Bourdon a la main, le chapeau et le mantelet 
chargez de coquilles et d'images peintes de diverses couleurs, faisoient 
une esp^ce de spectacle qui plut 

* Gluam dulce est peregrinis post multam longi itineris fatigationem, 
post plurima, terras marisqu'e pericula, ibi tandam quiescere, ubi et 
agnoscunt suum Dominum quievisse! Puto jam prae gaudio non 
sentiunt vies laborem, noc gravamen reputant expensarum ; sed tan- 
quam laboris praemium, cursusve bravium (^(ipafislov) assecuti ; juxta 
ScripturaB sententiam, gaudent vehementer cuminvenerint sepulcrum. 
(St. Bernard. Exhort, ad Milites Templi, cap. 11.) a tract we shall 
b3.ve occasion again, and more fully to refer to. See Sect. VII. 



L.ofC. 



loo 



FANATICISM 



be pardoned) flowed from all points around the Medi- 
terrean toward the principal centres of philosophy, or 
of legislative science. First India, or Chaldea, then 
Egypt, then Greece, drew fronn all lands the votaries 
of wisdom. How marvellously must the love of pure 
wisdom have declined since those ages ! — or else 
wisdom has become the produce of all climates. More 
nearly analogous to the pilgrimages of later times, 
though still very unlike them, was that widely-extend- 
ed practice which brought every year multitudes of 
the Greeks of all the settlements, even the most re- 
mote, and not a few of the still more distant barbarians, 
to the oracular temples of the mother country, or to 
those of Ionia and iEolia ; — to Oropus, Aba, Dodona, 
Delphi. Yet although the errand in these cases was 
often a fruitless one, and the belief whence it arose 
superstitious, the motive (had but the premises been 
sound) was calm and rational, and not at all of the 
sort to kindle the imagination, or to disturb the pas- 
sions. Instruction, advice, or what perhaps might be 
equally serviceable — ^ final decision on some perplex- 
ing occasion of public or private life, w^as needed, and 
sought for ; and, whether for the better or the worse, 
actually obtained from the ministers of the mephitic 
cavern. Now it must be granted that an authoritative 
determination (even supposing there to be an equal 
chance of truth and error) might, in many an instance, 
well repay a journey of three hundred miles, or a 
voyage of five. The common business of life, and the 
affairs of state too, were often much advantaged among 
the Greeks by their appeals to what one might call a 
Court of Chancery, in which the god gave verdicts — - 
generally without delays — always without pleadings 
— and most often for moderate fees. 

We have yet to search for the pattern or the origin 
of the practice of pilgrimage; but find resemblances 
rather than actual analogies. Such may be deemed, 
and it is not more than a resemblance, that usage of 
the Jewish people which brought the male population 



OF THE SCOURGE. 101 

oftlie country three times in the year to the centre and 
"©flly sanctioned place of pubhc worship. An auspici- 
ous institution — well adapted to diffuse, and to keep in 
brisk circulation among a simple and agricultural 
people, the several elements of social and religious 
prosperity. Then it is evident that the shortness of 
the distances, the frequency of the visit, and the univer- 
sahty of the obligation, must have obviated the evils 
which attend the custom of pilgrimage. No danger, 
ordinarily, nor perilous adventure, and no extreme 
privations, could beset a journey of fifty — a hundred, 
or a hundred and fifty miles, through a home-land, 
densely peopled ; nor could any but the calmest and 
happiest sort of excitement spring up on an occasion 
which, instead of being a single and solemn act of a 
man's life, was the habit of his life. But the main 
circumstance of difference is this, that the resort of the 
people to the tabernacle and temple, being a national 
duty, and a general or universal practice, it could 
never be made the ground of boasting or honour to 
individuals, nor could be thought of as a meritorious 
enterprise, by the aspirants to religious reputation. 

The mosaic institution seems to have set the habit of 
journeying in the Jewish character, and to have fixed 
it there so firmly and tranquilly, that in after ages, 
when the circumstances of a visit to the " Holy City" 
were altogether altered, and were such, as might 
readily have kindled an active fanaticism, dangerous 
to the governments which allowed it, the ancient de- 
vout serenity held its place in the feelings and manners 
of the people of the dispersion. — Those who, during 
the Persian, Macedonian, and Roman eras (the early 
portion of it) came to appear before the Lord from the 
remotest settlements of Libya, or Scythia, or India, 
went " from strength to strength" with a feeling nearly 
the same as that of their happier ancestors, whose 
journey lay only through the olive vales of Palestine. 
It is not until we approach the dark hour of the catas- 
trophe of the city that we meet with the indications of 

10* 



102 FANATICISM 

a different spirit. Then indeed a frenzy had seized 
the obdurate race, both at home and in the lands of 
its exile ; and the resort of the scattered nation to the 
ill-fated Jerusalem, was like the rush of acrid humours 
to the heart and head of a delirious man. This season 
excepted, the Jewish pilgrimages to the holy city were 
not, as it appears, marked by fanatical turbulence. — 
The purpose of the worshippers was rational and their 
religious notions were, in the main, of a substantial 
and healthy sort ; — they did not travel a thousand 
miles — ^to kiss a stone, or to purchase a relic ; but to 
take part in the services of that Temple where alone, 
in all the world, the first principles of Theology were 
understood, and the true God adored. The journey, 
and its attendant sentiments, were such as befitted its 
object. 

It is a preposterous creed that makes pilgrimage 
fatal. In this case Delusion leads the way ; Crime 
attends the route ; and Despair and Frenzy at the 
last come up to urge the infatuated troop toward the 
horrid spot where Misery and Death are to be glutted 
with victims. Such, in brief, and with circumstantial 
differences only, have been the pilgrimages that have 
beaten the roads of India, of Arabia and of Palestine. 
To the latter, we should remember, is due the blood- 
stained glory of giving birth to the Crusades ; for 
if there had been no resort of the pious to the deso- 
lated sepulchre, there would probably have been no 
heroes of the cross : — if no Peter the Hermit, no Tan- 
cred, no Godfrey, no Baldwin, or Richard ! 

Should we not in this place, note the fact that 
while superstition, as if with a power of fascination^ 
has always been drawing men from extensive sur- 
faces toward some one vortex of delusion, true Re- 
ligion, on the contrary, has shown itself to possess 
an expansive force, which, has rendered it a point of 
radiation, or an emanative centre, whence light and 
blessings have flowed to the remotest circumference. 
Is a criterion wanted which, by exterior facts only. 



OF THE SCOURGE. 103 

might discriminate between a false and a true belief? 
little hazard would be run in assuming such a one as 
this — That the former will be seen to be gathering 
up, and accumulating, and devouring ; — while the 
other spreads itself abroad, and scatters and diffuses, 
as widely as it may, whatever benefits it has to con- 
fer. Christianity is not the religion of a shrine, of a 
sepulchre, of a chair, or of a den ; but of all the 
broad ways of the world, and of every place where 
man is found. 



SUPPLEMENTARY NOTE. 



In treating of the Fanaticism of the Scourge, a passing notice, at 
least, of the miserable Flagellants of the 13th and 14th centuries, may 
be looked for. The pitiable frenzy, though of fatal consequence for 
a time, and horribly suppressed, does not seem to merit much atten- 
tion either as a matter of history or of philosophy. What has been 
handed down concerning these dolorous vagrants, is familiar to most 
readers. Froissart's account (Vol. ii. p. 263.) relates to the last erup- 
tion of the Flagellants. " This year of our Lord 1349, there came 
from Germany persons who performed public penitencies by whipping 
themselves with scourges having iron hooks, so that their backs and 
shoulders were torn : they chaunted also, in a piteous manner, 
canticles of the nativity and sufferings of our Saviour; and could not 
by their rules, remain in any town more than one night ; they 
travelled in companies of more or less in number (it is elsewhere 
affirmed that they amounted sometimes to ten thousand, and included 
persons of the highest rank) and thus journeyed through the country, 
performing their penitence for thirty-three days, being the number of 
years Jesus Christ remained on earth ; and then returned to their own 
homes. These penitencies were thus performed to entreat the Lord to 
restrain his anger, and withhold his vengeance ; for at this period an 
epidemic malady ravaged the earth, and destroyed a third part of its 
inhabitants." This fanaticism was of too turbulent a kind to be suf- 
fered by the Church, which, after severely denouncing it, and in vain, 
at length let loose upon it the armed ministers of her power. Eight 
thousand persons were massacred in a day by the Teutonic knights at 
the command of Pope Clement VI. There is reason to believe that 
some articles of the dominent superstition had been called in question 
by these penitents. 



SECTION VI. 



FANATICISM OF THE BRAND. 



Galerius, Alva, Bonner, cross our path in every 
street of a populous city ; and moreover the agents 
and ministers of such formidable personages might be 
found in every crowd. The chief and his company, fit 
for the labours of religious cruelty, we must not think 
have passed away with ages long gone by; but rather 
believe that they are about us now, and wait only the 
leave or bidding of circumstances tore-act their parts. 
Or, to confess in a word the whole humiliating truth, 
it is Human Nature, such, alas, as it is harboured in 
each of our bosoms, that offers itself with more or less 
readiness to the excitement of malign and even mur- 
derous passions ! 

At once therefore justice tow^ard the signalized 
authors of persecution, whom we are apt to regard as 
beings of infernal origin, and a due caution, having 
respect to the possible events of some day which may 
yet come in the world's history, demand that instead 
of taking a distant glance at the gloomy tragedies of 
remote times, we should look into the heart in search 
of those deep sunken motives whence the worst atro- 
icties might take their spring. The man is indeed to be 
envied whose spirit contains no such elements as might 
enable him to institute an analysis of this sort. Few will 
make the profession ; and perhaps among those who 
would, there may be one or more that, if actually drawn 
into the eddy of turbulent passions, would be found 



OF THE BRAND. 105 

foremost in deeds of violence ; for it is certain that the 
prime impulses of a sanguinary fanaticism act and 
re-act one upon another until an emotion is generated 
which quite bears down the gentler feelings of our 
nature. 

The offence given to self-love, and the wound 
inflicted upon pride by resistance in matters of 
opinion, is deep in proportion, not simply to the 
importance of the question debated, but to its obscurity 
also ; for in this case a secret dread of being at length 
overthrown and humbled, adds asperity to arrogance. 
It is obvious then that no subject can equal religion in 
furnishing occasion to these keen resentments. The 
vastness and unlimited range of the matters it is con- 
cerned with — the infinite importance of its capital 
truths, and the readiness with which the weight of 
what is substantial may be made over to what is not 
so — even to the most trivial of its adjuncts, fit it well 
to impart the utmost vehemence to w^hatever feelings 
attend the contests of mind with mind. All this 
hardly needs to be affirmed ; nor can we wonder to 
see the bitterness of ordinary strife assuming when 
religion is the subject of controversy, a solemn viru- 
lence, such as makes secular contentions seem vapid 
and trivial. Common hatred now rises to an immortal 
abhorrence ; wrath swells to execration, and every ill 
wish breaks out in anathemas. 

That feelings so strong should vent themselves in 
vindictive acts, when opportunity serves, is only 
natural ; and we might, without advancing further, 
account in this manner solely for the cruelties in 
which religious discords have so often terminated. 
But there seems to be something yet deeper in the 
tendency to employ torments and death as means of 
persuasion. It should be expected tliat a course of 
action so preposterous as that of destroying men in 
professed love to their souls,* will be found to take its 

* There is no cruelty comparable to that which wraps itself in a 
rillaaous hypocrisy. The Romish Church (nor that alone) has 



106 



FANATICISM 



rise from a sheer absurdity : — sucii, for example, as 
that of putting an antagonist into the position with 
which we associate the idea of atrocious crimes in 
order to confirm ourselves in the belief that he is indeed 
an atrocious criminal. This we grant is reasoning in 
a circle ; but it is a logic not strange to the human 
mind. A secret influence not to be resisted, impels 
us to do homage to the primary elements of virtue, 
even when most we are violating its particular pre- 
cepts. This homage, although tacit, and rendered 
unconsciously, is not the less real in its effects. We 
can in no case hate and curse our fellow-men until 
after we have wrought ourselves up to the persuasion 
that they are condign objects of such treatment. But 
in the instance of religious animosities such a persua- 
sion is not ordinarily to be attained, except in a 
circuitous track. Even the slenderest pretext for 
charging upon our opponent moral delinquencies is 
often wanting: on the contrary, perhaps a life and 
temper absolutely blameless put to shame every 
attempted calumny. Woe to our victim if this be the 
case, for then the cruel work of vilifying him must be 
so much the more elaborate ! To establish to our 
own satisfaction the guilt of our enemy by the method 
of argument — by fair inference and evidence, is a 
process too slow to keep pace with the velocity of the 
vindictive passions. What then remains but by the 
forms of law — if law be at our bidding, and by the 
sword of justice- — if justice be our obsequious servant, 
to consign the hated impugner of our will to the class 
of malefactors ? — ^When once we have looked upon 
him covered with ignominy — and if we can but see 
him pale with the paleness which a dungeon sheds on 



always professed the tenderest regard to the spiritual welfare of those 
whom she was about to let drop into her fires. And thus the Holy 
Office, in the instructions which guide its agents, provides that— "If 
a prisoner falls sick, the inquisitors must carefully provide him with 
every assistance, and more particularly attend to all that relates to 
pis SOUL." See Llorente. 



OP THE BRAND. 107 

the face — and if we do but catch the clanking of a 
chain about his neck which a Barabbas yesterday 
wore ; yes, and if we hear him groaning under tor- 
ments that are the necessary schooHng of obdurate 
wickedness — then we can fill up with ease what before 
was wanting to tranquillize a just revenge. The circle 
of our ideas is complete, our moral instincts come 
round to their close ; we breathe again, and by inflict- 
ing those heavy injuries which are presumptive evi- 
dence of demerit, we prove to ourselves, as well as to 
the world, that the object of our hatred was indeed 
worthy of detestation 1 

A mode of reasoning analogous to this (if reasoning 
it should be called) is not of rare occurrence. — " The 
man must be odious, or should I thus maltreat him ? " 
and then greater outrages must be committed, if it be 
only to justify the first assault. The bystanders in a 
common quarrel may often follow angry spirits around 
a circle of this sort. — Perhaps in the first burst of 
resentment a much more grievous imputation of bad 
motives was advanced than the facts of the case 
would at all sustain ; or indeed than the accuser had 
himself seriously intended. But his position is now 
taken, and hatred can make no backward step. At 
once to bring over to his side the sentiments of others, 
and to fill out his own vindictive emotions, he goes on 
to dr.al with his antagonist as if the exaggerated 
indictment were fully established. Then, from the 
overt act of vengeance an inference is brought back 
upon the demerit of its object. 

Religious rancour once generated, whether in the 
manner we have described, or in some other which 
we have failed to penetrate, gets aggravation from in- 
cidental causes, some of which demand to be mention- 
ed. Such as arise from specific opinions we shall 
presently have occasion to speak of To look then to 
external causes, one of the most ordinary and obvious 
is the mixed feeling of jealousy and interested pride 
that floats about the purlieus of every despotism, and 



108 FANATICISM 

especially of every religious despotism. It is trite 
to say that cruelty is produced or exasperated by the 
consciousness of impotence ; and as the foundations of 
spiritual tyranny are less ostensible, and more precari- 
ous than those of secular government, its alarms will 
be more vivid, its jealousies more envenomed, and its 
modes of procedure more rigorous and intemperate. 
The natural temper of men being supposed the same, 
it can hardly happen otherwise than that the rod or 
staff of ghostly supremacy should be a more terrible 
engine than the sceptre and the sword of temporal 
power. Must we not admit too, and may we not admit 
without offence, that, if once he gives way to the taste 
for cruelty, the man of the cowl and cloister will prove 
himself a more inexorable and a more incyenious tor- 
mentor, than the man of the field and cuirass ?* 

In its very worst condition, and during those ages 
when every thing human was broken up or corrupt, 
the sacerdotal order, looked at in the whole of its in- 
fluence, must be allowed to have been a benefit to the 
nations : and how incalculable a benefit has it proved 
in happier eras ! Yes, and who shall imagine the 
happy fruits of the same institution when it shall come 
to take effect upon the social system with the unem- 
barrassed power of its proper motives ? What now 

* One of the earliest and most zealous advocates of the practice of 
burning heretics is said to have been the Abbot Theophanes, who 
himself suffered extreme severities under the Iconoclast, Leo V. Pain 
(for beside his voluntary penances he was subject to the stone) was 
the unhappy man's element; and he doled it out to others with a 
freedom corresponding with the alacrity with which he bore it himself 
This connexion between the infliction and the endurance of torments 
has been a very frequent one; frequent enough to bring under just 
reprobation every specious form of asceticism. The Abbott Theop- 
hanes, we are told, commenced his course of abnegation by an act 
well fitting the part he afterwards acted as author or promoter of 
ecclesiastical cruelties. "Being arrived at man's estate, he was 
compelled by his friends to take a wife ; but on the day of his marriage 
he spoke in so moving a manner to his consort on the shortness and 
uncertainty of this life, that they made a mutual vow of perpetual 
chastity. She afterwards became a nun; and he for his part built 
two monasteries in Mysia." — Lives of the Saints, March 13. 



OF THE BRAND. 109 

we have to speak of is the special sacerdotal temper, 
such as we find it when all those nnotives were for- 
gotten, or were spurned. 

The moral sentiments are almost always, or in 
some degree, put in danger by the possession of privi- 
lege ; still more so if the beneficial distinction be of an 
undefined and intangible sort. This danger is much 
enhanced if serious privations, or disabilities, are the 
price paid for indistinct honours ; because in that case 
a perpetual petulance, or dull revenge, works itself 
into the character, and adds the bitterness of concealed 
envy to the arrogance of rank ; so that the malign 
sentiments of the pauper and of the oligarch are con- 
centred in the same bosom. If moral disadvantage 
can yet be aggravated, it is so when the being who 
already is too much alienated from his species by the 
destitution of real sympathies, and by participation in 
a ghostly nobility, is, in his mode of life, actually 
secluded from the open world, and breathes the poison 
of a cell. 

Nevertheless the pernicious consequence of circum- 
stances so unfavourable will be found open to many 
more exceptions than theory may lead us to expect ; 
for it might naturally be thought that not one human 
heart in a thousand would fail to become depraved 
from long exposure to influences so bad : whereas in 
fact it is not perhaps more than a third of every thou- 
sand that undergoes to the full the perversion of its 
genuine sentiments ; while another third appears 
scarcely at all impaired by a process that might seem 
of efficacy enough to break down the virtue of a 
seraph. 

Yet our anticipations will not fail us in relation to 
the third or the fourth of any body of men so cruelly 
placed in the very focus of spiritual ruin. Some such 
proportion will always exhibit in temper (and in con- 
duct if opportunity permits) what a vicious system may 
do in rendering men — men like ourselves, abhorrent, 
malign, or foul. Especially shall we find in such a 

11 



1 10 FANATICISM 

body frequent instances of a peculiar species of fero- 
city, like to nothing else in the circle of human senti- 
ments ;* — a rancour from which has been discharged 
all that is vigorous and generous in manly resentments, 
and all that is relenting in those of woman ; — a rancour 
which, although some few single examples of it had 
before been shown to the world in the course of 
twenty centuries, had never attached to a body as its 
characteristic until the sacerdotal institution, under the 
fostering care of the Romish Church, reached its 
maturity. 

What modern heart would not leap with fear if it 
were permitted to us for an hour to step back from the 
nineteenth century to the age of Vespasian, and to 
push our way into the the theatre of imperial and pop- 
ular diversions, just when the gladiator was about to 
die for the sport of a philosophic prince, and of sump- 
tuous citizens ; or when hungry beasts were to be 
glutted with the warm flesh of the nobility of a con- 
quered kingdom ! And yet the ancient Roman theatre, 
with its mere sprinkling of blood, and its momentary 
pangs and shrieks, quite fades if brought into compari- 
son with that Colisseum of Papal cruelty, in which not 
a hundred or two of victims, but myriads of people — • 
yes, nations entire — have been gorged ! If we must 
shrink back, as assuredly we should, from the one 
spectacle, we shudder even to think of the other. 
Though it were possible to summon courage enough 
to gaze upon the mortal, yet equal, conflict of man 
with man in the theatre, how shall we contemplate 
torments and burnings inflicted by the strong upon the 
weak ; or if we might endure to see the lion and the 
panther spring upon their prey, could we force our- 

* In that particular species of ingenuity which exercises itself in 
the invention of torments, the sacerdotal artists have certainly out- 
stripped all competitors. Happy is the reader if he be still ignorant 
— and continue so, of the mechanical secrets of ecclesiastical prison- 
houses. Descriptions of this sort injure the mind ; they rack the 
imagination, and engender emotions of resentment and disgust which 
do not well comport with Christian feehngs. 



OF TPIE BRAND. Ill 

selves lo the far more horrid sight, when the priest and 
the friar, athirst, were to rush upon men, women, and 
babes ! 

Agitating emotions, whether of indignation or of 
terror, are however to be restrained, and in calmer 
mood — a mood compatible with the exercise of rea- 
son, and vi^hich may allow us even to intermingle, 
where it can be done, excuses and pity for the perpe- 
trators of crime (often far more unhappy than the 
sufferers) we should survey that strange scene of woe 
whereon the Romish priesthood, age after age, has 
figured. 

But is it equitable, some may ask, to single out the 
Papal Hierarchy as the prime or incomparable exam- 
ple of religious ferocity ? Were not the ancient idol- 
atries — Druidical, Syrian, Scythian, and Indian, cruel 
and sanguinary ; and have not the more modern 
superstitions of Mexico and Hindoostan been deeply 
stained with blood '( This is true ; but a broad dis- 
tinction presents itself, which places the Papal immo- 
lations and tortures on a ground where there is 
nothing to compare with them. It might be enough 
to say that an annual or triennial sacrifice of a few 
victims, or the gorging of captives reserved for that 
very purpose from the slaughter of the field, have in 
no country amounted to a tenth of the numbers that, 
in equal portions of time, have fallen around the altar 
of the Romish Church. But leaving this point, there 
is a clear difference, much in favour of the pagan 
rites, between the shedding the blood of a victim 
(using the term in its restricted and proper sense) 
at the impulse of a sincere superstious dread ; and 
those executions and exterminations that have sprung, 
not from horrors of conscience, not from error of 
belief; but from a sheer rancour. Superstition does 
indeed tend to blood, and often is guilty of it ; but 
Fanaticism — fanaticism such as that of the Romish 
Hierarchy, breathes revenge, and murder beats from 
its heart. 



112 FANATICISM 

Historic justice demands however that another 
comparison should be made, and it is one which 
seems to reheve a little the horrors of the papal 
tyranny: — we speak of course of the severities under 
which the Christians of the first three centuries suf- 
fered, from the pagan predecessors of the Popes, on 
the seven hills. — Might we not believe that the demon 
of blood, though dislodged for a season when the 
house of Caesar fell in ruins, had lurked a centurv or 
two in the mists of the Tiber, or had slept in the 
swamps of Campania, until scenting its new occasion, 
and springing up refreshed, it entered with greetings 
the halls of the Vatican. It may be difficult or im- 
possible, imperfect as is our information, equitably to 
decide between imperial and papal Rome, on the 
question of ferocity. Yet some points of difference 
present themselves very clearly ; — as 1st. — The impe- 
rial persecutions of the Church are, in most instances, 
to be attributed to the personal temper or the fears or 
jealousies of the emperors, as individuals.* Whereas 
the papal cruelties sprung from the system, and never 
failed to be displayed, whatever might be the charac- 
ter of the Pontiff, as often as the specific provocation 
arose.f 2dly. More than one or two of the ten per- 

* The first persecution (to follow the vulgar computation) was 
the act of Nero — Religionum usqueqnaque conterntor ; the second 
of Domitian — non solum magnaj, sed et callidse inopinatoeque saevitias: 
what shall we say of the emperors to whose jealousies or philosophic 
pride are attributed the third and fourth? The fifth took place under 
Severus — natura saevus — vere Pertinax, vere Severus. The sixth 
under Maximin — a genuine savage, as jealous as fierce : — the seventh, 
horrible as it was, should be attributed to the political fears and 
energetic resolves of Decius : — the eighth persecution perhaps had 
its origin in the envy of an obscure individual. The austerity and 
vigour of Aurelian, qui esset, says Lactantius, natura vesanus et 
praeceps, if not diverted, would probably have given to the ninth 
more than a name. The tenth and the heaviest was the fruit partly 
of the personal dispositions, but more of the political fears of its two 
imperial authors. 

f The personal character of the Pontiff has no doubt often made 
itself felt in the measures pursued by the Church. But in q\iite as 
many instances the handling of the keys has seemed to effect a total 



OF THE BRAND. 113 

secutions, (to follow the common computation) appear 
to have been, on the part of the imperial government, 
a desperate endeavour, prompted by serious alarms, 
for ridding the state of a formidable intestine foe. A 
reluctant use, as it seems, was made of means so 
severe, but which were deemed indispensable to the 
preservation of the vast and shaken edifice of the 
empire.* Now if it be alleged that the papal perse- 
cutions had often similar motives, and might therefore 
admit of a parallel excuse, we must rest the difference 
on the ground, that the maintenance of a civil pohty 
(if the means be lawful) is a duty and a virtue in 
public men ; while we can regard the supporters of a 
ghostly domination in no other light than as hateful 
usurpers ; — never can it be a virtue to uphold that 
which, in its essence, and under any condition, is 
wicked. Then 3dly. The pagan persecutions were (for 
the most part) enacted and executed by men schooled 
in the field of war — and of war, often, against barba- 
rous hordes. They were men indurated too, from youth 

metamorphosis of dispositions; — the cardinal was one being-^the 
pojoe another ; and the college has had reason almost to doubt the 
identity of the person whom they had lifted to the summit of power. 
Thus the very man who had been singled out as more likely than 
any other to respect his oath, and to achieve desired reformations ;. has 
been the one most audaciously to brave the amazement of his 
comrades, and to defy the clamours of Christendom. The average 
date of each pontificate, taking the entire series to the present time, 
has been little more than seven years — and those, generally, the 
last years of decrepit age. But a system of government which, from 
century to century consigns the reins of power to trembling hands, 
must of course derive its temper and character much more from the 
body than from the head. The average reigns of the Roman 
Emperors was about ten years ; — and those, for the most part, the 
mid years of life ; — few of the series reached the extreme verge of 
mortal existence. 

* Putting out of view the violent dispositions of Galerius, there is 
abundant reason to believe that the fatal decision which burst like a 
thunder over the Roman world from the palace of Nicomedia was 
the result, in the main, of purely political calculations. Nothing 
beyond such calculations appears (two hundred years before) to have 
influenced the conduct of Trajan, such as himself holds it up to view 
in his letter of instructions to Pliny. 

11* 



114 FANATICISM 

by the spectacles of the theatre — that is to say, taught 
ferocity as much by their pastimes and festivities, as 
by their campaigns. From the hands of beings so 
trained what could be looked for?* But it is quite 
otherwise with the popish cruelties ; for these, in 
every age, have been devised and executed by 
men of the cloister ; men emasculate in habit, and 
whose nerves should have had the sensibility which 
sloth, study, and indulgence engender. An atrocity 
perpetrated by the hand of a delicate woman is 
always deemed to indicate a more malignant soul 
than if it be the act of a bandit or a pirate. By 
the same rule, should not the priest be somewhat 
more humane than the soldier ? Yet in fact the 
principals and the agents in the destruction of here- 
tics w^ere men who had personally learned none of 
the bad lessons of war, and had witnessed no scenes 
of torment or bloodshed but those in which them- 
selves were the actors. Should it be forgotten, while 
this comparison is pursued, that the emperor and the 
senate, the proconsul and the centurion, knew nothing 
more than the darkness of paganism could teach 
them ; but popes and cardinals, legates, priests and 
monks, held the Gospel of peace in their hand If 
The bas-reliefs and bronzes of the age of Roman 

* The Roman soldier had become a far more ferocious being in 
the age of the emperors than he was in that of the consuls. In the 
early era he was a member of a limited community, and had his 
home — his virtues — his personal sentiments; in the latter period he 
was ordinarily nothing better than an enlisted barbarian — how unlike 
to the warrior-citizen of whom, subaltern as well as chief, it might be 

said, in the words of Florus, expoditione finita, rediit ad boves 

rursus triumphalis agricola. 

t It is customary to speak of the middle ages as being destitute as 
well of scriptural as of profane learning; and this may be true of the 
mass of the people ; but certainly not of the principal actors in Church 
affairs. By the ecclesiastical writers of those times Scripture is quoted 
as largely and familiarly as it is in modern religious books. St. Ber- 
nard (of whom we shall have occasion presently to speak more at 
large) in the tracts and letters by which he instigated the second 
crusade, scarcely moves through a paragraph without a text. — Every 
thing is thought of — but the morahty of the enterprise ! 



OF THE BRAND. 115 

greatness have brought down for our inspection the 
form and visage of the Roman soldier, such as he was 
under Nerva, Trajan, Aurehus, Domitian. The con- 
tracted brow declares that storms of battle have beat 
upon it often ; the glare of that overshadowed eye 
throws contempt upon death : the inflated nostril 
breathes a steady rage : the fixed lips deny mercy : 
the rigid arm and the knit joints, have forced a path 
to victory, through bristled ramparts and triple lines of 
shields and swords. And withal there is a hardness of 
texture that seems the outward expression of an iron 
strength and rigour of soul — a power, as well of en- 
during, as of inflicting pain ; and the one with almost 
as much indifference as the other. Shall we conceive 
of encountering, on the open field, a being so firmly 
fierce, and so long accustomed to crush and trample 
upon man ? But who shall imagine himself to have 
been delivered into the hands of the Roman soldier 
armed, not as a wariior but as executioner ? This in- 
deed is terror. Alas then, let us commiserate the 
fate of our brethren and sisters in Christ — the early 
martyrs ! — What had they to look for when the cen- 
turion's band, such as we see it now encircling the 
column of Trajan, was let loose upon a flock of trem- 
bling victims, with license and command to torture and 
to kill!* 

Yet we have not reached the extreme point of 
horror : — there remains a picture which still more chills 
the blood. True, the Roman soldier, as well by his 
murderous occupations, as by his brutal usages, had 
become hard and cruel ; yet there was no mystery in 
his rage: — savage more than malign, his purposes of 
evil sprung only from the provocations of the hour ; 
they were not profound as hell. We turn then from 

* The cruelties endured by the Christians were often inflicted to 
appease the ferocity of the rabble. Koli yoip teat rov ''' A.Tru.Xov ra 
ox^(f} ;^i«^'i^o^evo$ r/yef^cov, s'^£0(,jx,s TrciXtv irpog 6ripiet. Epist. 
Vienn. et Lugd. Similar expressions abound in the early raartyr- 
ologies. 



116 FANATICISM 

the bas-reliefs, and the sculptures, and coins of ancient 
art, and open an illuminated codex — choice treasure 
of a monkish library. At the head of homilies and 
prayers, or of meditations and miracles, and set in 
flowers of purple and gold, we find the veritable effigy 
of the canonized zealot ; — abbot or brother — a Do- 
minic or a Fouquet. How delicate was the bodily 
frame and outward texture of the man : — the soft con- 
tour bespeaks physical and mental laxity ; yet is there 
too, in the mobile features an indication of that resolu- 
tion which excitement may give, if not that which 
animal courage imparts. An abject habit of soul, to- 
gether with a boundless insolence ; — a usage of sub- 
mission to every tyranny, and an arrogance that would 
crush a world when provoked, meet in the tortuous 
brows. Under how many impenetrable coverings 
are the secrets of that heart concealed ; if we are to 
judge by the wily closing of the lips, and the wrinkled 
temples ! The face, taken at a glance, is the very 
pattern of penitence and ecstasy ; but to look at it 
again is to find it wanting in the traces of every human 
affection. — The man, beside that his occupations have 
not been of the sort that give vigour to the animal 
system, and cheerful alacrity to the mind, has no kindly 
relationships, no natural cares, no mild hopes : he is 
not social, not domestic ; but in the place of all genuine 
impulses, harbours the rancid desires of a suppressed 
concupiscence. Who could imagine him to be hus- 
band, or fiither, or friend, or neighbour, or citizen, or 
patriot ? Hover where it may, this is an alien spirit — 
foreign to whatever is human ; at home only in the 
world of ghostly excitements : — it haunts earth ; not 
dwells upon it. 

What then, think w^e, shall this being show himself 
when he comes to be inflamed by spiritual revenge, 
and quickened by the virulence of those boundless 
hatreds which a malignant superstition engenders ! 
And what when the engines of a mighty despotism 
are entrusted to his zealous hands ! Horror has now 



OF THE BRAND. 117 

nothing worse to conceive of: — the ghastly ideal of 
cruelty is filled up. — Who would not rush from the 
grasp of the irritated ascetic to cling to the knees of 
the Roman soldier, and there plead for human com- 
passion ! 

Yet is this same horrific personage human, nor 
perhaps worse than many, if we deduct all that the 
bad system it has been his wretched lot to live under 
has done to pervert him. The Franciscan — the In- 
quisitor, once sucked the breast of woman, and joined 
in the mirth and gambols of childhood ; and even now, 
if it were possible to take him apart for a moment from 
his rules and his crucifix, w^e might find in his bosom 
the germs at least of the common charities of life : 
yes, doubtless he is human ; and if the sinewy fabric 
were exposed by the knife of the anatomist, the trans- 
formation that has made him so unlike to other men 
could not be detected. — The brain, for aught that ap- 
pears, might as well have entertained reason and truth 
as another brain ; — the heart, for aught that we can 
see, might, as readily as another heart, have throbbed 
with pity. 

System and circumstance deducted — the Francis- 
can or the Inquisitor may be found in all communities. 
— Look, for example, at that grave and abstracted, 
yet youthful countenance — pallid, and somewhat fallen 
from the salient outline that should bespeak the actual 
years. What intensity in the glare of the sunken 
eye ! What fixedness of purpose in the lips ! and the 
movements of the youth seem inspirited with some 
intention beyond simple locomotion, or mechanical 
agency: — as he walks one would think that he was 
hastening onward by the side of an invisible competitor 
for a prize at the goal. Or hear him speak : — he is 
terse and precise : his tones too, have a certain mystic 
monotony in place of the natural modulations of a 
voice so young. But listen to his opinions ; how ve- 
hement are they; how darkly coloured his representa- 
tions of simple facts ; — exaggeration sw^ells every 



118 FANATICISM 

sentence: and how far from youthful are his surmises; 
and his verdicts how inexorable ! — not a look, not a 
word, not an action of his belongs to the level of ordi- 
nary sympathies: all is yjrofound as the abyss, or lofty 
as the clouds. But, strange to say, you may find this 
our instance, perhaps, to be one of a community that 
boasts itself as the especial enemy of intolerance. — 
he has been bred in the heart of the very straitest sect 
of liberality, and would die gladly in the sacred cause 
of religious freedom ! Ah ! how like is man to man, 
strip him only of a garb ! — Take now our fervent 
youth, and immure him a year or two with twenty like 
himself, in some dim seclusion : — there work upon his 
passions with whatever is acrid in the system he already 
holds, and draw him on with a little art — the art of 
sacred logic, from inference to inference, until he 
comes into a state of mind to which nothing, the most 
exorbitant, can seem strange. You must then find for 
him a sphere of excitement; and without beads or a 
cowl he will act the part of the worthiest son of the 
Church that has lived. 

We return to matters of history. — By what rule of 
equity is a balance to be held between the cruelties 
of the papacy, and the exterminating wars of the 
Moslem conquerors? Without affirming absolutely 
on which side the scale might turn, certain points of 
comparison at once present themselves : — such for 
example as these. — The fury of the early propagators 
of the doctrine of Mohammed was that of warriors 
who, having launched upon the great enterprise of 
conquering the world, could not mince their measures. 
Or if we turn to those who in a later age took up the 
cause of the Prophet, we must remember that the 
ferocious hordes that pressed upon Christendom were 
Scythian before they were Mohammedan, and had 
long been used to drink the blood of their enemies 
from skulls, when they came to be taught a new 
religion from the Koran. The Moslem conquests 
(under the caliphs) were a storm that wasted the 



OF THE BRAND. 119 

countries it passed over, and died away ; and it is to 
be remembered that the conquerors, when once firmly- 
seated in their fair possessions, exhibited in their poUty 
and manners far more that was hberal and humane 
than the world had long before seen, or than it saw 
elsewhere, during many ages afterwards.^ Of the 
intolerance of the modern Mohammedan world, 
Turkish and Persian, it may fairly be said that, 
though in a sense attributable to the religious system 
of those nations, their despotic policy is nothing more 
than a homogeneous part of the oriental economy. 
This intolerance is Asiatic, rather than Mohamme- 
dan. What but rigour and a tyrannous dogmatism 
can be imagined to find a place among nations whose 
theory of government springs from the relation of lord, 
and slave 1 f Whether this theory belongs to the 
climate, or to the physical conformation of the race, 
or to what else, we will not say ; but come whence it 
may, it is much older than the age of Mohammed ; 
nay — as old as history. 

That measure of liberty of opinion (we may remark 
in passing) or of liberality of sentiment and of scep- 
tical indifference, which of late has worked its way 
through the widening fissures of the Persian and 
Turkish governments, is not merely inconsistent with 
the abstract idea of those political structures, but 
incompatible with their continuance. If already the 
dyke of despotism had not bulged and gaped, the 
insidious element of freedom could not so have pene- 
trated its substance : — the fact of its having penetrated 
is at once a proof of decay, and a prognostic of that 

* In the next Section the Mohammedan military fanaticism will 
come to be considered. 

t The reader may perhaps think that the southern states of the 
American Union, where no other marked distinction exists between 
man and man, except that of lord and slave — or of sallow skin and 
black, present an instance directly at variance with the position 
advanced above. — We assume this very instance, on the contrary, as 
the most pertinent that could be adduced in confirmation of the 
general truth. 



120 FANATICISM 

coming rush of waters that must, within a century, 
lay waste (lay waste to fertihze) the eastern world, 
from the deserts of the Indus to the mouths of the 
Danube : — shall we add — to the shores of the Baltic, 
and the banks of the Elbe? 

But the elements of the social system, and the 
principles of its construction have ever been, even 
from the remotest times, altogether of another sort in 
the west. Notwithstanding all oppressions and degra- 
dations, the love of liberty, through a long course of 
ages, yes, during the lapse of three thousand years, 
has clung to the European race. If some of these 
families, anciently as free as others, have, in modern 
times, quite sunk to the dust under the foot of despo- 
tism, it has only been by the presence and aid of the 
spiritual Power — by the Incubus of the Church, that 
the people have fallen. Popery apart — every nation 
west of the Euxine had long ago been free : — nay, 
had never been enslaved. The papal usurpation 
(thinking of it now only as a system of polity) has 
resided in Europe, not as a form of things in harmony 
with the spirit and temper of the region ; but malgre 
the aboriginal character with which it has always had 
to contend.^ Popery is not to Europe what Moham- 
medism is to Asia, but rather a long invasion of a soil 
which nature had said should bear notliing that was 
not generous- When shall the European families 
drive the exotic tyranny for ever from their shores ! 

There is little difficulty then in finding a sufficient 
reason, though not the sole reason, for the incompara- 
ble cruelties of popery ; its restless jealousies, its 
exterminations, its inexorable revenge, have all been 
proper to it as a precarious and alien despotism. The 
consciousness of an inherent hostility between itself 

* Every one knows that the several eras in which the papal 
despotism consohdated and extended its power were those in which 
the civil pohties of Europe were in the feeblest or most distracted 
condition. The termagant watched the moment always when the 
virile power of the nations was spent or fallen. 



OF THE BRAND. 121 

and the temper of the nations it has seduced and sub- 
dued, has made it a tyranny more merciless than any 
other mankind has tolerated. Even Popery, vye may 
fairly believe, might have been less sanguinary had it 
from tiie first seated itself in some congenial torrid 
chmate — native to abjectness and slavery. 

Were it true that this ancient, and now decrepit 
Motlier of corruption had actually disappeared from 
the real world ; or even could we believe, without a 
doubt, that she was very speedily to vanish, time 
might be better spent than in searching any deeper for 
the secrets of her power. But alas, it is not so ; and 
moreover it is true that a portion at least of the bad 
qualities whence this power arises, attaches to other 
systems beside the Romish Church, and may be discov- 
ered in dogmas not covered bv her scarlet mantle. 
On all accounts then we niust advance in our scrutiny, 
and expose, if it be possible, the hidden impulses of 
that malign fanaticism which popery has so largely 
engendered. 

With this purpose in view, something must be said, 
1st, of the doctrine of the Romish Church ; 2dly, of 
its constitution as a polity ; and something, 3dly, of its 
sacerdotal institute. 

I. We are, of course, to speak of the Romish doc- 
trine only in the single point of its tendency to gener- 
ate, or of its fitness to sustain, a sanguinary fanaticism. 

The prominent article of the New Testament, and 
which distingushes Christianity from all other religious 
systems, is a doctrine of Mercy incomparably full, free, 
and available. And yet this happy announcement of 
forgiveness of sins takes its stand upon a much more 
distinct and alarming assertion of the rigour of Divine 
Justice, and of the extent of its penal consequences, 
than hitherto had been heard of, or than the natural 
fears of conscious guilt would suggest, or readily 
admit. This ample promise of Grace, and this appal- 
ling declaration of Wrath, may fairly be assumed as 
Che prime elements of true religion, working always, 

Lfil 



122 FANATICISM 

and intended to work, one upon another, for the pro- 
duction of those vivid emotions, that are becoming to 
man in his actual relation to God. 

What less than the most serious evils can then 
accrue from disjoining in any manner these two essen- 
tial and correlative principles, or from any sort of tam- 
pering with the efficacy which the one should exert 
upon the other? If, for example, the doctrine of 
immutable justice and future wrath be brought into 
question, or abated of its force and meaning, then 
instantly the doctrine of mercy loses its significance, 
its moment, and its attractions ; and fades into the 
vague idea of an indolent clemency on the part of the 
Supreme Ruler — an idea which at once relaxes the 
motives both of piety and morality. Such (we appeal to 
facts) has been the invariable result of every attempt to 
reduce the plain import of certain passages in the Gos- 
pels. Or, on the other hand, if the rule and method of 
forgiveness, as declared in the Scriptures, be in any way 
abused, then will the threatened v^^-ath take a wrong 
direction, and not fail (from its ow^n intrinsic qual- 
ity) to produce the most dire effects. The tremendous 
doctrine of eternal perdition, loosened from its proper 
hold of the conscience, will remain at large, and be at 
the disposal of the spiritual despot, to be drawn on 
this side or that, as may best subserve the purposes of 
intimidation and tyranny. Nor is this all, for the same 
appalling doctrine so perverted by the despot, will take 
effect upon his own heart and imagination, and school 
him to act his part as the unflinching instrument of 
every horrid barbarity. — The zealot tormentor, taught 
from the pit, wants nothing but power and tools to 
render him indeed terrible and ruthless. 

If it were demanded to give in a few words the 
chief incentive of the ferocity of Romanism, we must 
plainly say, that the doctrine of eternal damnation — 
as held and perverted by the Romish Church, is the 
germ of its cruelty. Or the truth (such we deem it) 
may be expressed in general terms — That a malignant 



OP THE BRAND. 123 

fanaticism of some kind (truculent if opportunity per- 
mits) will attend every misrepresentation or misappli- 
cation of what the Scriptures affirm concerning future 
punishment. It should be added that an error of this 
sort naturally follows in the track of an abused doc- 
trine of grace. 

Let it be noted that our Lord and his ministers 
speak of the wrath of God as provoked by nothing 
but impiety and immorality; and they leave us in no 
doubt of what it is specifically which they mean when 
they issue their comminations. — It is the blasphemer 
and the impeni(ent : it is the murderer, the thief, the 
liar, the slanderer, the impure, the adulterer, the per- 
jured person, and the rapacious ; or in a word, the 
sensual, the malignant and the unjust, who have to 
expect the fiery indignation — the future " tribulation 
and anguish." Terrible as it is, this doctrine leans 
with its whole stress to the side favourable to virtue ; 
nor is there any thing mystic, indefinite, or obscure 
attached to it. If any complain of the severity of the 
threat — let them forsake the evil of their ways, and its 
severity shall not touch them. Does any complain? 
nay rather, let him repent, and it shall go well with 
him. 

And not only, in the preaching of our Lord, and in 
the writings of his Apostles, is the threatening clearly 
attached to a vicious and irreligious lite, and to nothing 
else; but it is employed in no other way, and for no 
other purpose, than to enforce, or to give solemnity 
to the invitations of mercy. How cogent is the reason 
why men should humble themselves before Almighty 
God, and instantly sue for the pardon of sin ! 

Thus defined, and thus employed, the doctrine, 
appalling as it may be, was clearly an engine of benev- 
olence : — it must have been grossly perverted if, in 
any case,' it has ceased to deserve this commendation. 
, ^o was it at first, and so, in any age, whoever, after 
the example of Christ — the Saviour of the world, 
spends life and strength in the endeavour to lead his 



124 FANATICISM 

fellows to the arms of the Divine compassion, "because 
there remains a " fearful looking for of wrath " which 
shall fall on the impenitent, is not only no fanatic, but 
deserves the praise, and will win the recompense, of 
the highest and purest philanthropy. 

Not such is the Romish doctrine of wrath ; nor 
such the spirit or style of its preachers ; nor such its 
pit of perdition. — What is the Papal Hell but the 
State Prison of the Papal Tyranny? — The future woe, 
converted into the instrument of its oppressions, has 
made it natural that the inflictions of the infernal 
dungeon should be taken as the exemplars of sacer- 
dotal barbarity. All offences of a moral kind, even 
the most atrocious, having come under the manage- 
ment of the Church, and being made the subject of a 
mercenary commerce between her and the trans- 
gressor, so that while he submits implicitly to the 
direction of the priest (who farms heaven) he has 
nothing to fear, the bearing of the doctrine of retribu- 
tion is wholly turned off from the consciences of men; 
and the genuine association of ideas, which connects 
sin and punishment, is broken up. The preacher may 
still declaim about the righteous judgment of God ; 
but in fact, and in every man's personal apprehensions, 
the terror of justice has passed off obliquely, and is no 
more thought of in its due place. The future Retri- 
bution remains therefore at large to serve the turns of 
the hierarchy : it is nothing else than an ecclesiastical 
terror. The Romish place of perdition awaits — the 
infidel, and the heretic, and whoever provokes the 
jealousies of 'he Church. Let us fix our minds a 
mom/ent upon the natural consequences of this per- 
version of bo :'iomentous an element of religion. 

We will imogine then that Vv^e have received and 
firmly embraced this Romish dogma, as true. — How 
does it affect oui* general sentiments toward the bulk 
of mankind ; or what impression does it convey of the ; 
Divine character and government ? Under such an 
inflwenco, in the first place, we learn to think that the 



OF THE BRAND. 125 

most heinous crimes — crimes aggravated by a full 
knowledge of religion, and committed in the face of 
its sanctions, enjoy perpetual impunity by the means 
of a villanous and interested misprision on the part of 
the functionaries of Heaven ; so that in fact Justice 
takes no hold of those whose fortune it is to be born 
upon a canonical soil, and where, the dispensing 
power having its agents, pardons are always in the 
market. The actual state of morals in countries 
where, age after age, nothing has been tolerated that 
might serve to correct the proper influence of popery 
— Spain, Porlugal, Italy, is proof enough that these 
suppositions are not imaginary.* 

Yet the dogma has another, and perhaps it is a 
worse aspect. Imbued wnth its spirit, we turn tow^ard 
the millions of mankind — pagan and Mohammedan, 
whose misery it has been to have possessed no 
religious light — or a mere glimmer, and who, if we 
are to trust to our Lord's rule of equity, are to be 
" beaten with few stripes," for this proper reason, that 
they knew not his will :- — but upon these, we are 
taught to think, the unrelieved weight of the future 
wrath is to press. — These, because they have no holy 
water, no holy oil, no absolving priest, are to suffer 
without mitigation. Thus have we subverted the 
order of reason and justice, and have rendered the 
righteous retribution of Heaven, which, as expounded 
in the Scriptures, is altogether of a sanatory influence, 
horribly corrupt and despotic. 

The practical inference is natural and inevitable. — 
If God thus deal with his creatures — inflicting the 
heaviest penalties where there has been the lowest 

* The state of manners in the southern countries of Europe is now 
unhappily but too well understood in England ; for the profligacy of 
the continent has of late been shed over the entire surface of our 
ephemeral literature. No reference on this subject need be made to 
authorities. If it be alleged that the manners of the northern and 
protestant states are but a shade or two better than those of the 
south, we shall then have to balance the unobstructed influence of 
popery against the scarcely at all obstructed influence of infidelity — ■ 
and the scale is seen to turn a little in favour of the latter. 

12* 



126 FANATICISM 

responsibility; and allowing a mercenary commuta- 
tion of punishment in the case of the most aggravated 
guilt, why may not man, in his dealings with his 
fellows, follow in the same track, though at a humble 
distance l Who can affirm that, to carry the brand 
of exterminating war into the heart of pagan and 
Mohammedan lands — to hack and rip up and dash to 
the ground, and burn, detested tribes of misbelievers 
— miscreants, is not a religious work? If it be not so, 
then the harmony that should subsist between divine 
and human virtue is broken. Such has actually been 
the belief and practice of the Romish Church in every 
age. Did the feeble nations of the Mexican Isthmus, 
and of Peru, fall under the feet of the most Catholic 
people of Europe ? Yes ; but the mere avidity of 
gold would not have prompted so many torments and 
so many massacres : — the soldier was pushed on by 
the friar, with this very dogma of perdition burning in 
his bosom. 

And yet an inference which had to be carried out 
a thousand miles, or across the Atlantic, would not 
immediately affect more than a portion of the people 
in any country. Not so the inference which fell upon 
the heretic at home. In this application of it every 
man — every husband, and every wife, every father, 
and every child, might be concerned.* Especially 
did it affect the sacerdotal order^ through all its ranks, 
and at every moment ; nay, every motive of corporate 
interest, and pride, and jealousy, bore upon it with the 
greatest force. The heathen world out of view, then 
the lake of perdition was to be peopled only by heretics, 
and by the contumacious impugners of Church power. 
— " Submit, recant, and be saved ; persist and be 
damned." — Such was the voice of the Church, and 

* Deinde promiscua multiludo, timore percnisis animis, defeiebant 
quosque certatim, nulla neque propinquitatis neque necessitiidinis 
aut beneficiorum habita ralione, non parenli filius, non uxor marito, 
non cliens patrono parcebat. Delationes autem erant plerunque de 
rebus frivolis ; ut quisque forte aliquid ob superstitioncm in aliquo 
reprehenderat. Melchior Mam, as quoted by Bayle. The passage 
relates to the estabhsbment of a court of the Holy Office. 



OF THE BRAND. 127 

such the rule of its proceedings ; and the history of 
Europe during a full thousand years — a history writ- 
ten in blood, has been the comment on the rule. 

True it is, that the Ecclesiastical Hell of the Romish 
despotism has, of late, been closed, and a seal set upon 
it by the strong hand of the civil power, or the stronger 
hand of popular opinion ; but the dogma is what it 
was, and where it was. The pent-up fire of its revenge 
still murmurs through the vaults of the spiritual edifice, 
from the mouth of the Tagus to the Carpathian moun- 
tains ; give it only wind, and how should it rage to 
the skies ! The W"aldenses, the Lollards, the Reform- 
ed of Germany, Italy, Spain, Holland, England, and 
the Huguenots of France, were the victims, not of a 
cruel age, but of a cruel doctrine ; and that doctrine is 
as cruel now, as it was in the pontificate of Innocent III. 

II. A vindictive spirit and ferocious acts belong of 
necessity to a polity such as that of the Romish Church. 
Already we have mentioned the contrariety which 
subsists between the aboriginal European temper (as 
compared with the Asiatic) and a tyranny so excessive 
as that of the Church, and have noted the consequent 
severity of the hierarchical power. But this is not all ; 
for while it is true that popery is alien to the climate 
and to the races of the western world, it exists also, 
and in another sense, as a foreign power in every single 
country of Europe — Italy excepted. Need we then 
defend the general principle that a foreign domination 
is more jealous, and oppressive, and less placable than 
a domestic government ? Or if there be exceptions 
to this rule, assuredly the Romish church does not 
afford one. But the theme is trite. Every reader of 
modern history must have observed the pernicious in- 
fluence which Italian Churchmen and monks have 
exerted in the councils of the European states. This 
influence has made itself seen in the rigour of those 
measures which kings, under terror of excommunica- 
tion, have been compelled to adopt for the maintenance 
of the far-stretched authority of Rome ; — and espe- 



128 FANATICISM 

cially when the skirts of the Church fell over countries 
that were quickening into freedom.* 

Over the same area, or nearly so, Imperial Rome 
extended her sway ; but her instruments of power 
were visible, intelligible, and readily applied ; and 
therefore admitted of leniency and reason in the use 
of them. A military despotism, founded on the right 
of conquest, confides in its means of securing obedi- 
ence, and is often less afflictive to a country in fact 
than in name. It must be otherwise, and always has 
been so, with a ghostly despotism. The conscious in- 
distinctness of the grounds on which it demands sub- 
mission inspires it with an anxiety that leads it to 
overdo its severities. And then the abominable hypo- 
crisy of not itself touching the sword of justice (alack, 
the cleanness of its hands !) but of setting the civil 
power at work when blood is to be shed, can never 
fail to render its executions so much the more cruel and 
severe. To be tried and condemned by one authority, 
and punished by another, is a hard fate, and can differ 
very little from that of becoming the victim of blind fury. 

Besides, as the spiritual Despotism rules by usurping 
the imagination of men, and is seated upon their fears 
of an awful futurity, it will, by a natural connexion or 
harmony of causes have recourse, when provoked, to 
those means of intimidation that, by the horror they 
inspire, call up the faculty on which the tyranny takes 
its hold. When endangered by resistance it will en- 
deavour to regain its ground by such displays of in- 

* The native free spirit of the European stock, which in England 
has long had its scope, has in no age been altogether broken down 
in France. The Gallican Church, century after century, has hung 
loose upon Rome ; and the papal court has well felt how precarious 
were her spiritual possessions west of the Rhine and the Rhone. 
The horrors of St. Bartholomew, and the cruelties perpetrated by 
Louis XIV. were only the proper expressions of the conscious alarms 
of the Romish power in regard to France. When shall France learn 
to blush at once at her atheism, and at her superstitions ? Is it any 
thing but her atheism and her superstitions that have compelled her 
to cede to England the first place of moral influence in the world at 
large, and of foreign empire ? The horrors committed in the Nether^ 
lands by the Duke of Alva afford another illustration of the rule that 
has guided the Romish despotism in measuring out its vengeance. 



OP THE BRAND. 129 

tolerable anguish in the persons of its foes as shall 
fitly symbolize the torments that await them in the 
world to come. The doctrine of perdition, as held by 
the Church, will be visibly typified in the modes of 
punishment it employs. Fire is the chosen means of 
its chastisements.* 

III. We have to speak, lastly, of the Romish clerical 
institution, and to exhibit that natural connexion of 
motives which has drawn upon the temper of its sacer- 
dotal order a fanaticism more intensely ferocious than 
the world has elsewhere seen. 

* A curious comparison might be drawn between different nations 
on the point of the modes of capital punishment in use among them. 
The subject can only be glanced at here ; but well deserves a more 
ample treatment. The Jews had three or four modes of inflicting 
death, but chiefly used the most summary — hanging or stoning. 
The Greeks had seven or eight ; yet very rarely had recourse 
to those which were excruciating : — the poisoned cup was the most 
usual ; or casting from a precipice. But fine, slavery, or banish- 
ment, were much oftener employed than capital punishment. The 
Romans, after they had conquered the world, and had amalgamated 
the usages of barbarous nations with the ancient practice of the Re- 
public, added to their list of penal terrors several excruciating deaths; 
especially empalement or crucifi.xion. Yet, if the acts of a few exe- 
crable tyrants are excepted, none but horrid and incorrigible crim- 
inals were consigned to lingering agonies. The institutions of Mo- 
hammed rather mitigated and restrained, than aggravated the penal 
severities of the oriental nations. Fines, whipping, or cudgeling, 
Avere admitted instead of death, very freely. And whatever horrors 
may have been perpetrated by savage Scythian chiefs, it cannot be 
affirmed that cruelty is the c/ia/-«cier of the Mohammedan penal code. 

The Romish Church, simplifying its practice, has fixed upon that 
one mode of inflicting death which must altogether be deemed the 
most horrible of all. She admits indeed, in certain cases, of strangling 
before burning ; but again, in other cases, has used slow roasting 
instead of burning at the stake But the three main circumstances 
that distinguish the papal executions from those of any other polity 
are these — 1st. The prodigious number of the victims of her courts. 
2d, That all but a very few of these victims were confessedly guiltless 
of crimes visibly injurious to society. And 3d, That, while other 
polities have reserved ignominious and excruciating punishments for 
rare instances of obdurate wickedness, or for frightful crimes, and 
for persons of the vilest rank, the Romish polity has put out of view 
all such distinctions, and has, without respect for rank, or habits, or 
personal merit, consigned to the flames — nobles, prelates, men of 
letters, women — children. Nothing at all comparable to the blind 
ferocity of the Romish executions has elsewhere been seen in the 
world : — the world has seen no such judges as her priests. 



130 



FANATICISM 



If the secular influence of the Papal superstition 
be now immensely diminished, and if the engines it 
once wielded have been broken ; if no longer it can 
breathe the rage of war into the hearts of kings ; and 
if the humility it effected in the twelfth century, is 
forced upon it in the nineteenth, and if therefore the 
danger of its hurling a brand again into the bosom of 
the European community be extremely small — it is 
nevertheless true that the Romish Clerical Institution 
does still exist on all sides of us: and that its elements 
are, in the nineteenth century, precisely what they were 
in the twelfth. And it is true moreover that an institu- 
tion so incurably pernicious should be looked at, not- 
withstanding its actual feebleness at any moment, as a 
virulent germ, that waits only a favourable season to 
spring up with all its native properties about it. 

The errors of Romanism, doctrinal and practical we 
are so much accustomed to regard as objects of theO' 
logical reprobation, that it is not easy at once to look at 
them in the light of what may be termed their physical 
quality. We propose however now to consider the 
Romish clerical institution in that light, (all Biblical 
argument apart,) and especially to trace in it the Lat^ 
ural generation of the spirit of cruelty. 

A word already has been said of the moral peril to 
■which the sacerdotal order, under even the most 
auspicious circumstances is exposed. Of the several 
points of disadvantage there alluded to, we now select 
only one ; — but it is the chief, and it is that one which 
our proper subject points to. We aflirm then that the 
law of celibacy, taking effect, as it does, upon a large 
and promiscuous body of men, cannot fail to produce, 
in a certain proportion of instances, a rancorous fanat- 
icism. The broad fact that it has done so, we take as 
the guide and support of our argument , and turn to 
the common principles of human nature for the inter- 
pretation of the fact. 

Nothing intelligible can be meant by the phrase — 
the laws of Nature ; if we do not understand — Divine 
Constitutions wise and good, which are not to be tarn- 



OF THE BRAND. 131 

pered with, but at onr cost. To say that such or 
such is the intention of nature, is to imply that some 
severe, and often incalculable mischief will accrue 
when that specific intention is thwarted. The usages of 
nations, or their political institutions, or their religious 
practices, have in a thousand modes contravened the 
beneficent purposes of the Creator ; but never have 
done so without entailing innumerable woes. Yet is 
it remarkable that in such cases the actual ill conse- 
quence, often, has not been altogether of the sort 
that would have been looked for ; or has not been 
apparently the direct effect of the special cause. An 
evil, such as none had foreseen, breaks out, on the one 
hand or the other, and stretches, we know not how 
far. In truth, the great machine of the w^orld — intel- 
lectual and physical, is so intricate, and so remotely 
compacted part with part, that when we disturb a 
power, no human sagacity can say where, or at what 
stage our presumption will meet its punishment. Thus 
we shall find it to have been with the celibacy of the 
Romish priesthood. The direct and obvious incon- 
veniences and evils of the institution have indeed fol- 
low^ed it every where, and have been seen in the 
profligacy it has spread over the face of society, in 
the abominations it has fostered, and in the personal 
sorrows it has entailed. But these, shall we say, have 
not been the main mischiefs of the system ; for we 
regard as deeper and more extensive than any of them, 
the encouragement it has given to exorbitant and 
inexorable opinions, to portentous modes of feeling, to 
outrageous courses of conduct, and, in a word, to the 
spirit that delights in destruction and torture. The 
sanguinary fanaticism of the Romish Church we trace, 
through no very circuitous track, to the unnatural per- 
sonal condition of its ministers.* 

*A multiplicity of independent circumstances had influence in 
ripening the two principles — namely of clerical celibacy and eccle- 
siastical intolerance : but it is fair to point out the coincident growth 
of the two. In truth the latter followed so closely and constantly 
upon the former that to deny all connexion of causation is to be reso- 
lutely incredulous. 



132 FANATICISM 

The true extent of the violence done to human 
nature by the practice of religious celibacy has been 
in a great measure concealed from notice by a partial 
fact that seems to excuse it. — It' is always true that, in 
a body of men taken at random, a certain number 
will be found (we need not hazard a conjecture as to 
its amount) to whom, from peculiarity of tempera- 
ment, a life of cehbacy cannot be deemed unnatural, 
and to whom it will be no grievance. At least it may 
be Jiffirmed of such that some moderate and acci- 
dental motive of prudence, or taste, or the vexations 
of an early disappointment ; or perhaps a praiseworthy 
regnrd to the welfare of relatives, v^ill abundantly 
suffice to reconcile them to their singular lot. Then 
beyond this small circle there will be a wider one, 
including not a very few, to whom a motive some 
degrees stronger will prove efficient to the same end, 
■ — A vigorous selfishness, abhorrent of disturbance in its 
comforts, or fearful of the diminution of its dainties, 
will answ'er such a purpose : — are there not those 
who would never marry lest they should be compelled 
to dine less sumptuously ? Or a strong intellectual 
taste produces the same effect : — there have been 
artists and philosophers, many ; yes some of the most 
illustrious of men, who, having wedded a fair ideal, 
have sought no other love. Still more (and to ap- 
proach our specific subject) the powerful sentiments 
of religion, have, in very many instances, and in a 
manner not culpable, (sometimes commendable,) sepa- 
rated men from the ordinary lot, and rendered them 
in a genuine sense virtuous, as w^ell as happy, in single 
life. Such cases — exceptions made without violence, 
it is proper to take account of; — they are Nature's 
exceptions, and those w^ho come fairly under the 
description shall be styled, if they please, a physical 
aristocracy^ — born to illustrate the supremacy of Mind. 

Now inasmuch as religious motives — being more 
profound than any others, can never be brought with- 
in calculation, so as that w^e might fix a hmit to their 



OF THE BRAND. 133 

power, it must be deemed impracticable to ascertain 
to what extent they may operate safely, and without 
engendering much positive evil, in swelling the com- 
pany of the unmarried. A large space should be left 
open for exceptions of this kind ; and we should be 
slow to inculpate motives, or to condemn a course of 
conduct which, in the eye of Heaven, may not be 
reprehensible. In times of great religious excitement, 
and especially during the undisputed prevalence of 
enthusiastic opinions, who shall say whether ten or 
twenty in a hundred might not devote themselves to 
celibacy, and yet neither undergo nor diffuse a sensi- 
ble injury? Human nature has a pliability that admits 
of its adapting itself to very great variations of senti- 
ment and practice. 

The exceptive fact, such as we have stated it, was 
manifestly the rudiment of the ancient religious celi- 
bacy ; and it ought to be granted that, so long as a 
high and genuine excitement lasted, and moreover 
before spiritual despotism came in to avail itself of the 
usage, and to stretch the anomaly beyond its natural 
limits, the ill consequences would not be extreme. 
But how immensely different is the state of things, 
and how must the mischief be aggravated, when the 
law and custom of celibacy, having come to constitute 
an essential and permanent element of the social and 
political system of a country, not merely takes up the 
little band of ccelibes by destination of nature ; but is 
every day applied, by priestly or paternal tyranny, to 
temperaments of all kinds, and with a blind cruelty is 
made to include those very instances upon which it 
will not fail to inflict the worst imaginable injuries ! 
In thinking of the celibacy of the Romish clergy, we 
are too much accustomed to regard it under the palli- 
ation of supposing that it is an institution which just 
serves to draw into a company the scattered indi- 
viduals of that frigid class which every where exists ; 
— whereas in fact it observes no such rule of selection. 

The age at which youth are devoted to the service 

13 



134 FANATICISM 

of the Church makes it certain that, in by far the 
greater number of instances, this decision is altogether 
irrespective of any physical aptitude to submit to the 
condition imposed upon the ministers of religion.* 
Might we advance a step further and conjecture that, 
so far as personal fitness is at all thought of, there is a 
double probability that the most unhappy cases will 
be thrown into the toils of the presumptuous vow ? — 
Who does not know that an early destination to the 
Church very often is the consequence (in the first 
place) of a manifest sluggishness of the animal and 
mental faculties — a sensual and indolent propension, 
which, though it must cut off a man's chance of suc- 
cess in the arduous engagements of common life, is 
likely to be no bar to his advancement in the sacred 
calling ; and certainly can never expose him to cruel 
mortifications in the discharge of its even-paced func- 
tions. — But alas, what will the oath of virginity prob- 
ably do for constitutions of this order — the very idea 
must be dropped. Or (in the second place) a youth 
is not seldom devoted to the clerical profession from 

* In boyhood ordinarily. Although celibacy was not imposed upon 
the secular clergy until long after the monkish system had reached 
its settled form, yet when it was so imposed, what had been the 
usage of the monastery became the usage of the clergy universally. 
And as the monastic vow was often taken before the eighteenth year 
(for we find Gregory the Great fixing that as the earliest age in 
certah% exceptive cases) so was it usual for the sacerdotal function to 
be chosen irrevocably at the same period of life. Nay, it would seem 
that ordination, and church preferment even, were often conferred 
upon mere striplings. Scholares pueri et impuberes adolescentuli 
ob sanguinis dignitatem promoventur ad ecclesiasticas dignitates, et 
de sub ferula transferuntur ad principandum presbyteris ; laetiores 
interim quod virgas evaserint, quam quod meruerint principatum. — 
St. Bernard de Officio Episcoporum, c. 7. Cautions against ihe ordi- 
nation of beardless youths are of frequent occurrence, proving the 
abuse to have been common ; Pueri ad sacros ordines nullatenus 
admittantnr, ne tanto periculosiiis cadant, quanto citius conscendere 
ad altiora festinant. In later times, as it ia well known, the transition 
haa been immediate from school to the church. It has been the 
pohcy of the Jesuits especially to make their selection of youths from 
the schools under their care. The earliest display of intellectual 
power fixed the eye of the superintendant ; and forthwith the venom 
of the society's fanaticism was shed into the victim's mind. 



OP THE BRAND. 135 

reasons of an opposite kind, namely a precocious dis- 
play of intellectual tastes, with its attendant irritab'e 
delicacy or debility of constitution, which is foreseen 
to preclude laborious enaployments. And yet these 
very cases (nine out of ten of them) are precisely 
those in which the most lamentable consequences 
must ensue from the violence done to nature by the 
sacerdotal institute. 

The high importance of the subject — the incalcii 
lable extent of the evils that have attached to it — the 
actual existence of the abuse in our own times ; and 
(may we add) some appearance of the rise of a gen- 
eral indignation against it even in the heart of catho ic 
countries, invite and may excuse (notwithstanding the 
difficulty of doing so) our advancing; — nay, the sub- 
ject is inseparable from the specific theme we have ia 
hand. 

Before we insist upon some more special matters, 
let us for a moment consider what, though often 
adverted to, can never be too much regarded — the 
negative influence of clerical celibacy, as it cuts off 
-from the unhappy class of men to whom it applies, 
the very means which God has provided, and the only 
generally efficacious means, of generating sentiments 
of compassion and tenderness in the bosoms of men 
Doubtless there are born a few milky natures, sof. 
and sensitive, that, without wife or child, feel and 
weep, and are kind as woman. But taking men at 
large, and taking them exposed as they are to the 
rude operation of laborious occupations, and to the 
ungentle collisions of sordid interest, it is only as 
husband and father, and as possessors of the enjoy- 
ments of home, that the rough force of the mind, and 
the harshness of the temper, are broken down — that 
gross selfishness is attempered ; and especially that 
the habit is formed of considering and of reahzing by 
sympathy, the pains, infirmities, wants, and sorrows of 
others.* It is in this point peculiarly that human 

* Uxor et liberi discipUna quaedam humanitalis, at ccelibes tetri c 
et fiererl — Bacon, 



136 FANATICISM 

nature needs a softening power; and admits it too. 
Barbarities often of the worst sort spring from the 
mere want of the habit of regarding the feelings of 
others ; but this habit is not of spontaneous growth ; 
it must be inwrought by the repetition of proper 
occasions. 

Amid the stern contentions of pubhc Hfe, or under 
the severe labours and dangers of the field, a man is 
learning to discard as an incumbrance every gentle 
emotion, and is arming himself to bear down opposi- 
tion. But he comes home (and unless unblessed 
indeed) is schooled in another and a better lesson* 
Taken even at the lowest calculation, the amount of 
this counter-influence is vast. — What would be the 
world if we can imagine it to be wholly withdrawn? — 
Look but to the rugged labourer, impenetrable and 
insensible as he seems, and follow him, when his task 
is done, to the door where he meets helpless playful 
infancy — where he finds that his wants have been 
thought of — where he has offices of kindness to dis- 
charge : — follow him, and admire the provision made 
for correcting in one hour the ungracious influences of 
twelve ! Nor is our supposition romantic. — Whoever 
has been conversant with the lower classes, and who- 
ever has an eye and an ear to catch the expressions 
of human charities, as rudely uttered or uncouthly 
displayed, must often, in the crowd that gathers in a 
street about distress, have detected home-taught hearts^ 
and paternal sympathies, where the aspect and the 
tones indicated only a sensual ferocity. 

Should we count it then a light matter to come in 
upon the circle of the domestic remedial influence 
(God's beneficent ordinance) with our monstrous 
institutions, and at a stroke to cut off' from a numerous 
body of men, and for ever, and from the class that 
are to be the teachers of mercy, all their part in the 
economy of human kindness 1 If indeed the design 
were horrid, the means would be fit ; but if it h^ 
religious, how preposterous are the means I 



OP THE BRANt). 137 

Let it only be imagined that the preservation of the 
social system demanded some necessary office, at 
once foul and sanguinary, hard and loathsome, to be 
discharged, and that, to secure a supply of wretched 
beings to go through with the cruel function, it were 
deemed proper to train from the cradle a certain pro- 
portion of mankind. — Among the various means that 
might be devised for effecting the initiation of such a 
miserable class, and for securing to it an education 
exclusive of every gentle sympathy, and of rendering 
our agents both impure and rancorous, what measure 
more efficacious could be imagined than that of impos- 
ing upon the unfortunate band the very celibacy in 
which the Romish Church breeds her ministers ? 

We must yet look at this institution in its operation 
upon specific temperaments. 

It is fair to assume that, of a body of men taken at 
hazard from the mass, and placed under the restraint 
(or rather the profession) of continence, a considerable 
portion — perhaps a third, will very early in their 
course throw off every thing but their hypocrisy, and 
become thoroughly profligate. The notorious con- 
dition of those countries where nothing has forbidden 
the natural expansion of the Romish system, would 
warrant our affirming that two-thirds of its clergy 
come under such a description. Nay, perhaps our 
English credulity would be ridiculed at Madrid, 
Grenada, Lisbon, Florence, Lima, or Rio Janeiro, if 
we presumed that any more than a very few of the 
sacerdotal class w^ere not utterly debauched.* Now 



* The Romanists can have no more right to boast of the purity of 
theCathohc clergy of £7ig'?a7id, or to appeal to the manners (confessedly 
respectable) of English priests, as a fair specimen of the sacerdotal 
body, than modern deists have to take a parallel advantage of the 
mild temper and irreproachable character of some who now reject 
Christianity. To judge equitably of Deism, we must look at it where 
it has received no correcting influence from Christianity. Popery 
must be judged on the same principle. We do not ask what Romish 
priests are when surrounded by protestantism • but what where the 
system develops itself without restraint. Most readily and cheerfully 

13* 



138 FANATICISM 

if men of this sort are to be placed by the side of the 
licentious " out of orders," then the difference against 
them will consist in that aggravation of crime which 
his sacrilege and blasphemy heap upon the head of the 
Churchman. As violator and corruptor of every 
family about him, he makes his way, as it were, 
through the presence chamber of the Eternal Majesty, 
and, as he goes, formally invites the Omniscient Purity 
to look upon his deeds of shame ! 

It cannot but happen that the dissolute priest — one 
hour surpliced and before the altar, and the next — 
where we must not follow him, should become 
intensely more wicked than the secular man of plea- 
sure. So foul at heart will he become, that no 
enormity can distaste or alarm him. Not often are 
such men in any sense fanatics ; — of enthusiasm they 
are incapable, and rancour is not their characteristic. 
Nevertheless, in times of general excitement, or at the 
call of superiors, and for the support of corporate 
interests, they will fall into their places around the 
scaffold, or the stake, with much composure ; — and 
lend their hands too in the work if needed. Nay, 
human nature admits, when it has i^eached this stage 
of corruption, of an infernal frenzy: sensuality and 
cruelty in a moment collapsing, and the herd of swine 
suddenly seized of the demon of malice rush on — not 
themselves indeed to dash from the precipice, but to 
fall upon the innocent. 

To omit lesser distinctions, we may next adduce 
the instance of those, and they will not be a few, of a 
middle sort, who though they may once and again 
have fallen under peculiar temptations, and so may 
have lost that mens conscia recti which their vow 
should have preserved, are nevertheless ordinarily 
retained in the path of virtue by the motives proper 
to their order ; — by a sense of professional decorum, 

is it granted that, notwithstanding the cruel disadvantages of his 
condition, the Enghsh priest is ordinarily correct in his behaYiourj, 
and estimable as a member of society. 



OF THE BRAND. 139 

by ecclesiastical pride, and by sentiments too which, 
for want of an unexceptionable term, must be called — 
religious. And yet the continence of men of this class 
is not at all attributable to coldness of temperament. 
- We must stop short of a full explication of the state 
of feeling likely to grow out of a position such as this ; 
it may however be said that the human mind can 
hardly be placed in circumstances more pitiable or 
injurious. Quite unlike to it is the voluntary celibacy 
of secular men of similar constitution. — The iron girdle 
of a solemn irrevocable oath, galling the conscience, 
because a violated oath, and vet not to be laid aside — 
the Churchman's prudery of spotless virtue, wounded 
to the quick by humiliating recollections, and the 
impulses of nature fought off from disadvantageous 
ground, leave no tranquillity, allow no repose within. 
Rather a tempest of passion rages in the bosom — a 
tempest so much the more afflictive, because it may 
gain no vent.* 

* It were better to sustain in patience the imputation of advancing 
exaggerated statements, and of giving a stronger colour to an argu- 
ment than the facts of the case would justify, than to do the unin- 
itiated reader so serious an injury as to bring to light the evidence 
that bears upon this question. An appeal therefore is made to 
whoever has actually perused, or at least looked into the ascetic 
writers from Macarius, Ephraera, Palladius, and Cassian, downwards 
to those of the twelfth century. On the ground of the evidence 
which might from those sources be adduced, a general result may be 
stated under three heads — namely, 

1st. That the monastic vow and the life of celibacy failed to 
SECURE THE PROFESSED OBJECT of the institution in ail but a very 
few instances, and that it did not promote that purity of the heart 
which was acknowledged to be its only good end. 

2d. That beside the evil of cutting men off from the common 
enjoyments, duties, and sympathies of life, the work of maintaining 
and defending their chastity (exterior and interior) absorbed almost 
the whole energies of those (a very few excepted) who sincerely 
laboured at it : — so that to be chaste, in fact and in heart, was pretty 
nearly the sum of what the monk could do, even with the aid of 
starvation, excessive bodily toils, and depletic medicine — to say 
nothing of his prayers, tears, and flagellations. 

3d. That the monastic institution, even daring its earlier and 
better era, entailed the most deplorable miseries, and generated the 
foulest and most abominable practices, so that, for every veritable 



140 FANATICISM 

To the tumultuous stage of this mental conflict there 
succeeds periiaps, either a daad hopeless debility, most 
pitiable to think of, or perversions of the mind still 
more sad. — But if the character have more vigour, 
and does in fact repel the assailants that would tread 
it in the dust, such men will be found in a stale of 
peculiar preparation for admitting malignant excite- 
ments. — the very substance of the soul has become 
combustible — a spark kindles the latent heat, and the 
passions blaze to heaven. A settled feeling, hard to 
define or describe, but which might be called a chro- 
nic revenge, of which humanity at large, and all forms 
of enjoyment are the objects, is the habit of the mind, 
and is always in readiness- to be shed forth upon 
whatever it may meet. Some grateful alleviation of 
the inward torment is obtained by merely witnessing 
sanguinary scenes; — the hidden anguish which has so 
long silently preyed upon the heart, is diverted for an 
hour while torture is inflicted upon another ; and the 
woe of the soul, Vi'hich might not express itself in 
words, or hardly in sighs, seems to be vented in the 
groans of a victim. 

Such transitions of strong and turbid emotions from 
one channel to another are not very unusual. Few 
sensitive minds can be at a loss in recalling analogous 
instances from the page of personal history. If the 
torrent of feeling is choked on one side, it swells and 
bursts a passage in another : and strange as it may 
seem — not strange perhaps if we scrutinize attentively 
the structure of the passions, it is a fact that the gentle 
and genial affections have a specific tendency, when 
cut off from their natural flow, to take the turn of ran- 
cour and ferocity. The spirit baffled in its first desires 
and defeated, not subdued, suddenly meets a new 

saint which the monastery cherished, it made twenty wretches, whose 
moral condition was in the last degree pitiable or loathsome. 

Now shall we leave these propositions unsupported by proof? — or 
will the Romanist — the pride and prop of whose Church is monkery, 
challenge us to make good our allegations? 



OP THE BRAND. 141 

excitement, although altogether of a different order ; — - 
combines with the novel element, and rushes on, it 
knows not whither. 

Will it seem paradoxical to affirm that some of the 
most portentous exhibitions of ungovernable violence 
that have amazed the world, or have been signalized 
in history, have been nothing but the out-bursting of 
long suppressed passions of some other kind than those 
which appear? We venture to say that certain 
extreme cases of religious ferocity might be explained 
(were we in possession of the secret history of the 
individuals) on this principle ; and then would be 
cleared up the mystery of the union of virtue and 
piety (of a spurious kind) with a horrible cruelty of 
temper.* — Could we delve in some spots of the earth's 
surface far down toward its secret caverns, we might 
come upon the laboratories of nature, where chemical 
agents in constant turmoil have, age after age, con- 
vulsed the abyss — yet unfelt above. Yes, perhaps 
low beneath some of the most tranquil and smiling 
landscapes, where no such terror has been ever seen 



*Mr. Butler strenuously denies the imputation ordinarily cast 
upon Guzman (Saint Dominic), of instigating and personally enacting 
the barbarities of the Crusade against the Albigenses. It is probable 
that his conduct in this instance was in harmony with that of the 
Church generally, and especially of his spiritual progeny — the Inqui- 
eitors, who, abhorring to soil their own fingers with blood, delivered 
the condemned to the civil power to discharge the last " offices of 
Mercy." The point in question may seem of infinitely small moment. 
Nevertheless, as a signal and unmatched instance of the sort, the 
character of the Founder of the Dominican order is worthy of the 
labour that might be needed to set it clear from the misrepresentations 
of all kinds, which cover it. The author hopes to be able, in a future 
work, to give the result of an examination of authorities touching 
the reputation of this dread personage. We find modern Romanist 
writers far more discreet and cautious on points of this kind than 
were their predecessors of the sixteenth century. Thus while the 
Author of the Lives of the Saints takes pains to keep the reputation 
of St. Dominic clear of blood, an Italian annalist, speaking of the 
pontificate of Innocent III. plainly says, Nacque allora I'eresia di 
Tolosa, che fu da S. Domenico ammortata. — But how extinguished ? 
not until fire and the sword had converted the finest countries in 
Europe into a wilderness. 



142 FANATICISM 

or surmised, furious tempests of fire are continually 
shaking the infernal vault. But in a moment, by the 
heaving of the cavern, a nev^ element rushes dow^n, 
and egress too is made : — heat tenfold more intense 
than before is suddenly generated. — The very bowels 
of the world swelter and are molten : — the jagged jaws 
of the pit are sundered ; torrents of fire rush up, and 
are flung to the clouds, and kingdoms are covered with 
dismay. — 

— We grant at once that our comparison in appear- 
ance goes beyond the occasion, and is disproportioned 
to the subject. — Let it then be condemned as inappro- 
priate. Nevertheless the truth remains certain that the 
mischiefs occasioned by even the most dire of volcanic 
eruptions have been trivial, if compared with the sor- 
rows, and pains, and devastations, that have, in more 
than a few instances, sprung from the burning cavern 
of only a single human bosom. What is the descent 
of a river of lava through vineyards and olive groves, 
or what the overthrow of hamlets and the burying of 
villages or castles, compared with the torments and 
imprisonments, the conflagrations, the famines, the 
exterminating wars, and the ages of national degreda- 
tion, all of which have had so simple and narrow an 
origin as the fiery malice of a friar's heart ? Better 
were it, incomparably better for mankind, that a new 
volcano should heave itself from the abyss, and spout 
sulphur in the centre of every province of every 
European kingdom, than that Dominicians and Fran- 
ciscans, papal legates and Jesuits, should find leave to 
repeat the massacres and executions which so often 
have stained the soil of France, and Spain, and Portu- 
gal, and Italy, and Germany, and Holland, and 
England, 

There is yet another, and a very different order of 
men upon whom the vow of celibacy cannot fail to 
produce the most pernicious eflfects. We mean those 
stern natures that are, in a sense, pure and clean, but 
not so much by poverty of temperament, as by hard" 



OF THE BRAND. 143 

ness of mental structure. They are not cold as water 
but cold as marble ; not solid as ice, but solid as iron. 
They shed no tears, and have no power of relenting, 
because there are no humours or lymph at all in their 
constitutions. Every nerve is a chord, stretched till it 
vibrates, and which will sooner snap than relax. There 
are born a few men {men, for they have bones and 
muscles — senses and bodily organs) and especially 
do such make their appearance under the wing of 
gloomy superstitions, who themselves quite exempt, as 
well from animal appeties as from social affections, 
and unconscious of the soft alternations of hope and 
fear, grief and joy, look with grim contempt upon hu- 
manity ; — even as man may look upon the most igno- 
of the brutal orders. 

The state of celibacy, which costs such men no 
struggle, they will esteem their glory, as being a fit 
outward sign of the intrinsic dignity which lifts them 
above their fellows. Celibacy to such is but a visible 
seal of spiritual supremacy — a scutcheon of nobility in 
the kingdom of heaven. Conscious of immaculate and 
unalterable personal sanctity (if continence be sanctity) 
and conscious of a sort of ecstatic indifference under 
the voluntary pains of penance — floggings, fastings, 
and vigils, how can they doubt themselves to have 
reached the utmost summit of virtue ? — Their virtue, 
is it not seraphic, rather than human ? What can 
sully such excellence ? — as easily slur the bright sky 
of noon, as contaminate a piety so celestial !* 

* It is surely more than a mere coincidence that the very age in 
which the folly of conferring celestial titles upon illustrious church- 
men reached its height, was the era also wherein the execrable in- 
tolerance of the papacy burst forth with the greatest fury.— While 
torrents of blood were flowing in the east and the west, at the insti- 
gation of spiritual heroes, the interior of the Church blazed with the 
superhuman virtues of angelical doctors, and seraphic doctors — 
and so forth. Yes, and at the very moment that the duty of the 
civil power to aid the Church in the extermination of heretics and 
infidels was loudly preached, the fervours of the saints were reaching 
such a pitch (if we are to credit their devoted biographers) as often 
to lift them while in prayer many feet from the ground. "F.Leo 



144 FANATICISM 

Yes, but of all the preparations for atrocious crime, 
none is more ominous or complete than a presumption 
of possessing superhuman virtue. Sanctity of this 
heroic and immortal order may dip its hands in blood 
and fear no stain ! Illusions such as these, egregious 
as they may seem, are not foreign to the human mind. 
The holy arrogance of the soul, so long as it can be 
held entire, is a warrant that will cover all extents of 
guilt. There is no murder in murder, no falseness in 
perjury, no sin in any sin, if but the perpetrator is inflate 
with the persuasion of himself being a demigod Jn 
goodness. No self-deception so extreme can be 
maintained by men who walk along with others upon 
the vulgar level of human interests : whoever would 
be mad at this rate, assuredly must not be citizen, 
neighbour, husband, or father; for the duties and 
oiFices of these relations teach even the most preposte- 
rous minds some common sense. It is celibacy and the 
cell that skreen the infatuation, and that foment it.* 

the secretary of St. Francis (of Assisi) and his confessor, testified 
that he had seen him in prayer raised above the ground so high, that 
his disciple could only touch his feet, which he held and watered with 
his tears ; and that sometimes he saw him raised much higher." 
Lwes of the Saints, October 4. It was in one of these elevations that 
the saint received those far-famed stigmas of which his order have 
so much boasted — unless indeed we listen to the story which affirms 
that St. Francis and St Dominic, while together at Rome, fell out, 
and actually proceeded to blows ; when the latter seizing a spit, in- 
flicted some severe wounds upon his unarmed friend. This story 
perhaps should be regarded as an allegory, intended to prefigure the 
hot animosities that afterwards prevailed between the ghostly pro- 
geny of the two Founders. It is remarkable that, besides other 
"bones of contention," these very stigmas became the subject of a 
fierce warfare between the rival orders ; the Dominicans having the 
audacity to claim for their Founder the very honour which the Fran- 
ciscans had long thought their own without dispute. — But we have 
wandered from our purpose, and return to it to remind the reader 
that, at the very time when the miraculous wound in the (right) side 
of St. Francis was oozing gore in attestation of his seraphic piety, 
the soil of Languedoc was soaking in the blood of the luckless in- 
habitants — blood shed at the instigation, or under the eyes, of these 
same superhuman saints. 

* There are exceptions. Simon de Montfort was bred not in the 
cell but the camp ; and although, as Mr. Butler assures us, " his zeal 
and piety equalled him to the apostolic menj" yet had he acquired 
it all in the open world. 



OP THE BRAND. 145 

Surrounded as we are in the present day, happily, 
by circumstances altogether of another sort, nothing 
less than a vigorous and continued effort of the ima- 
gination can enable us to follow those links of transition 
by which, so often, the stern ascetic, whose devout 
meditations w^e may even now peruse with pleasure 
and advantage, has passed to the fervours of a trucu- 
lent zeal. These links are few^er than at first we may 
think. — Let any one conceive himself to have laid 
down, as he may put off a garment, every social affec- 
tion, remote and intimate, and to have thrown off every 
sympathy with what animates the open world, and to 
be mulct at once of manhood and humanity, and with 
a sort of desperate apathy to look down upon the 
theatre of life. Add to this supposition the heats of a 
turgid piety, and then ask whether much would be 
wanting to open the way to cruel or vindictive desires. 

Or let any one entertain another supposition — as for 
example, that being arraigned on the indistinct ground 
of some political offence, in relation to which prejudice 
and passion have much scope, he stood at the bar, and 
saw his jury to consist of a dozen cowled anchorets, 
just summoned from their dens of morose meditation. 
Who would indulge a hope of receiving justice from 
such a band ? Aye, would not a man shudder were 
he to descry only one such being among the twelve, 
and must he not believe that the pertinacious rancour 
of that one would effect his destruction ? 

Shall we- pass from the light and air of an English 
court, to some pestilent cavern of the Holy Office ? — 
an atmosphere in which Justice has never borne to 
remain even an hour, and in which Mercy never 
spoke,* The reverend assessors, with their obsequi- 

* The author will be thought to have forgotten that the great 
Ximenes de Cisneros presided eleven years in the court of the Inqui- 
sition. Did then neither Justice nor Mercy accompany the cardinal 
in his descents to the vaults of the Holy Office? Yes, the Justice 
and the Mercy of the Romish Church went with him there. By 
what rule are we to think of men — that of their professions, or that 
of their deeds ? During the inquisitor-generalship of Ximenes, fifty 

14 



146 FANATICISM 

ous ministers — tools in hand, are, we will imagine, 
drawn in even proportions from the three classes just 
specified. To the right and left sit those of the first 
sort — the lookers on, whose vote for the use of the rack 
and pully has often had a motive more detestable than 
even the most horrid malice, and who hasten the con- 
sent of the court to a fatal sentence that they may save 
the hour of some adulterous appointment. Next are 
those of our second class, in whose bosoms mingled 
passions, and alternate irreconcilable desires, are beat- 
ing like the waves of a tempest-troubled sea. To them 
is not this very hour of gloomy service the season 
toward which tumultuous emotions have long been 
tending, as the time when they should get vent ? It is 
then that the grinding torments of wounded pride or 
despair are to relax a while ; as if the culprit (Jew, or 
Moor, or heretic) who is to groan his hour upon the 
wheel, were to take up as substitute the anguish that 
grasps the heart of his judge. Nay, we do not carry 
imagination too far;- — it belongs to human nature thus 
to feel ; — the sight, and even the infliction of extreme 
suffering, loosens for a moment the gripe of internal 
distress. The vulture of remorse or revenge forgets 
his part to glare upon other agonies, and rests appeased 
in listening to another's sighs. 

thousand Moors, under terror of death and torture, received the grace 
of baptism ; while more than an equal number of the refractory were 
condemned. Of these, two thousand five- hundred and thirty-six he 
burned alive. Or, supposing the whole number to have been evenly 
distributed through the period of his presidentship, it will appear 
that between Sunday and Sunday of every week of those years he 
committed (to reject the odd two hundred and forty-eight) four men 
or women to the flames ! Let it be affirmed that, in the " New Re- 
gulations," some regard was paid to the rights of the accused ; yet 
■was the entire process a horrible snare, so contrived as to render 
the escape of the victim almost impossible. Besides, is not reason 
insulted by talking at all of the justice of the details of a judicial 
process, the object of which was to maintain an execrable usurpa- 
tion? We may mourn indeed that a mind of fine quality should be 
found in company with a Torquemada ; but we must not so outrage 
the great principles of virtue as, on account of talents or accomplish- 
ments, to skreen one murderer of thousands, while we consign ano- 
ther to infamy. 



OP THE BRAND. 147 

But what say we of the President of the Court ? to 
him we must allow the praise of loftier motives. Not 
since sunset of yesterday has he tasted bread, or mois- 
tened his shrivelled bloodless lip. Watching and prayer, 
though they have not spent him, have wrought up the 
chronic fever of his pulse to a tremulous height, that 
almost reaches delirium. Yet settled and calm is his 
front, and his eye glazed : — the spirit, how is it ab- 
stracted from mortal connexions ! human sympathies 
are as remote from his soul as are the warmth, the 
fruits, and the pleasures of a sultry Syrian glen, from 
the glaciers and snow that encrust the summits of 
Lebanon. The communion of the soul is with the 
things of another world. — iVlas ! not the world of love 
and joy, but the gulph of misery ! In every sense, 
immediate and figurative, this terrible personage is son 
and minister of hell. And now he comes from his cell 
to his chair that he may again realize, in a palpable, 
visible, and audible form, those conceptions of pain, 
horror, revenge, perdition, upon which the monoton- 
ous meditations of his cloister are employed. The 
dark ideas that haunt his imagination, night and. day, 
stoop the wing to this hour, in which the implements 
of anguish are to bring forth shrieks and groans, such 
as shall give new vividness to the fading impressions of 
misery which he delights to revolve. 

Idle, ah how idle is the hope entertained by the 
cold and shuddering culprit, when, as brought up from 
his dungeon, he rapidly peruses each reverend visage 
in expectation of descrying on one, or upon another, 
the traces of reason and mercy ! — Alas, it is for this 
very purpose, and no other, it is to sigh, to shrink, to 
writhe, to shriek, that he has been dragged to the dim 
chamber of the Holy Office : — he stands where he 
stands, because the men who sit to mock him with 
forms of law, have need (each in a special manner) of 
the spectacle of his misery. 

Does the history of popish tyranny bear out, or does 
it refute our descriptions? — let them stand or be con- 



148 FANATICISM 

demned by an appeal to records that are open to every 
eye. 

We have not however quite done with the heavy 
theme of that preparation which the Romish Church 
has made for training her ministers to become the 
scourges of humanity : and let it be remembered, as 
we proceed, that a just horror of the system should 
generate so much the more pity for the agents, even 
with all their loathsome vices and cruelties, who, age 
after age, have undergone its influence. The doctrine 
and the Institute we execrate : — for the men we 
mourn. 

It might well seem as if circumstances so unfavour- 
able to virtue and goodness as those we have already 
mentioned could hardly admit aggravation. But in 
fact they have a climax. The practice of auricular 
confession would entail a thousand evils and dangers 
upon the parties concerned, even apart from the un- 
natural condition to which one of these parties has been 
reduced. But what must we think of auricular con- 
fession when he into whose prurient ear it is poured 
lives under the irritation of a vow of virginity ! The 
wretched being within whose bosom distorted passions 
are rankling, is called daily to listen to tales of licenti- 
ousness from his own sex (if indeed the ambiguous 
personage has a sex) and infinitely worse — to the re- 
luctant or shameless disclosures of the other. Let the 
female penitent be of what class she may, simple 
hearted or lax, the repetition of her dishonour, while it 
must seal the moral mischief of the offence upon her- 
self, even if the auditor were a woman, enhances it 
beyond measure when the instincts of nature are 
violated by making the recital to a man. But shall we 
imagine the effect upon the sentiments of him who 
receives the confession ? Each sinner makes but one 
confession in a given time, but each priest in the same 
space listens to a hundred ! What then, after a while, 
must that receptacle become into which the continual 



OF THE BRAND. 



149 



droppings of all the debauchery of a parish are falling, 
and through which the copious abomination filters?* 

* Neither the oath of secrecy, nor the penalty which sanctions it, 
has prevented the disclosure of more than enough of the abomina- 
tions of the Confessional. The discreet and well-informed Romanist 
will not challenge evidence in justification of the strong language 
which the Author uses on the subject; the Romanist, we presume, 
does not need to have certain notorious books named to him in which, 
with astounding insensibilit}', theConfessarius has divulged the mys- 
teries of his art. Of one of these infamous books, a respectable Romish 
writer says, Ce prodigieux volume contient un examin tres subtil de 
toutes les impurities imaginables ; c'estun CLOAGtUE, qui renferme 
des choses horribles, et qu'on n'oseroit dire. On I'appelle avec 
justice un ouvrage honteux, compose avec un curiosite enorme, 
horrible et odieux par la diligence et I'exactitude qui y regne, a pene- 
ti'er dans des choses monstreuses, sales, infames, et diaboliques. II 
est impossible de comprendre comment un Autheur pent avoir re- 
nonce a la pudeur jusqu'a pouvoir escrire un tel livre, puis qu'au- 
jourd'huy un homme qui n'a pas despouill^ toute honte patit efFroy- 
ablement en le lisant. And again speaking of the same writer, .... 
prodigioso volumine, velut Cloaca ingenti, fanda infandaque con- 
volvit. 

The Church rigorously enjoins the faithful, as they would escape 
perdition, to make the most intimate and circumstantial disclosures of 
their guilt, without which, it says, the " sacred physician cannot be 
qualified to apply the proper remedy." And we are not left in doubt 
as to the result. Constat enim, says the Council of Trent, sacerdotes 
judicium hoc, incognita causa, exercere non potuisse, nee sequitatem 
quidem, illos in poenis injungendis servare potuisse, si in genere dum- 
taxat, et non potiias in specie, ac sigillatim, sua ipsi peccata decla- 

rassent Without the most unreserved confession, say these 

doctors, there is no hope of remission — qui secijs faciunt et scienter 
aliqua retinent, nihil divinae bonitati per sacerdotem reraittendum 
proponunt. Nor was it enough to disclose the mere /ac<5 of guilt ; 
the Church must know all circumstantials ; Colligitur prseterea, etiam 
eas circumstantias in confessione explicandas esse, qua speciem 
piccati mutant. — See the fifth chapter of the decrees of the Council of 
Trent. 

The sacrament of confession, when it came to be thus explained 
and enjoined, naturally drew in upon the Church, in tenfold quantity, 
the impurities of licentious times. Heretofore, those chiefly had 
come to the priest who possessed some conscience and virtue, and 
whose disclosures were of a less flagrant sort. But afterwards, that 
is to say from the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the custom of 
confession became universal ; and the most abandoned of men (and 
women) retained superstition enough to desire absolution and to seek 
it in this manner from the priest. — Accordingly we find fror-n this 
time abundant indications of the bad proficiency which the clergy 
made in the knowledge ef every horrible enormity. On this point 
it might be enough to refer to the writings of Albert, bishop of 

14* 



150 



FANATICISM 



It is hard to suppose that the Romish Church, in 
constituting her hierarchy, had wittingly kept in view 

Ratisbon — if a book which bears his name has not unjustly been 
attributed to him. But even long before the time when the Sewers of 
the Church were thus deepened and widened, it is clear from abundant 
evidence that the practice of receiving private confessions had had 
great influence in depraving, both the secular and regular clergy, and 
in spreading on all sides a shameless and boundless licentiousness. 
It would be very easy, could it be done without offending the just 
rules of propriety, to put this matter beyond dispute. Little more 
than the reputation and the conceit of sanctity could be left to men 
who, being themselves bound to single life (we must not call it 
chastity) were able to write what some noted fathers of the Church 
have written on offensive subjects. This sort of learning they 
frankly acknowledged themselves to have acquired at first or second 

hand from penitents ag Tirpoq if^s rtg rav ut^sG-if^eJv x,at 

'XoXtoc ycai ^ict) TTcckaiog ^^vtj^, i^o[A.oKoy7itroc,y.i\r,(; Trphg eturov yvva\~ 

»o$, aTTeipdey^ecTo nor is this a solitary instance in the 

same Father (as well unnamed). The replies given by Basil to his 
monks on certain points of discretion, sufficiently attest the evils in- 
volved in the practice, even in its infant state; who, by the way, 
goes ail the length of the Council of Trent in demanding (from the 
monks at least) a discovery of even " the lightest movements of the 
soul," and of " every secret of the heart ;" and by means of an apt 
illustration persuades them to a throwing forth from the inner man, 
whatever is noxious. Some of the interrogations addressed to Basil, 
and relating to confession, are highly significant ; but they must be 
remitted to a more fit occasion. 

How far, in the actual practice of the Romish Church, regard was 
paid to the temperament and character of the man, in appointing the 
confessarius, it is not easy to learn. But great care has been taken 
to prevent any but those duly appointed, from receiving confessions ; 
and a cure also to prevent promiscuous confession. A priest leaving 
his care, or disabled by sickness from the discharges of his duties, 
named a substitute, to whom alone his penitents might unburden 
their consciences. Among the many instances that might be ad- 
duced in illustration of the rule, a somewhat curious one occurs in 
the minutes of the trial of the luckless Joan of Arc. — Inlerroguee 
si elle se confessoil tous les ans, dit qu'ouy, a son propre cur^, et s'il 
estoit empesche elle se confessoit a un autre prebstre, par le conge 
dudict cure ; nevertheless, and although the heroine could prove 
qu'elle recevoit le corps de nostre Seigneur tous les ans a Pasques, 
she was, by her ferocious and hypocritical judges, condamnee a cstre 
arse et bruslee, not for having fought in the cause of her country, 
but — comme heretique. — L^Histoire et Cronique de J^ormandie. 
, We return for a moment to the influence of auricular confesssion 
upon the Priest, and conclude this note in the words of Bayle. 
II arrive a ces Critiques (upon Catullus and Martial) ce qui arrive 
aux M6decins et aux Chirurgiens, qui a force de manier des ulceres. 



OF THE BRAND. 151 

the purpose of rendering her clergy the fit instru- 
ments of whatever atrocity her occasions might demand 
them to perpetrate ; and so had brought to bear upon 
their hearts every possible power of corruption. Not 
content with cashiering them of all sanatory domestic 
influences, she has by the practice of confession, made 
the full stream of human crime and corruption to 
pass — foul and infectious, through their bosoms ! Hav- 
ing to construct at discretion the polity of the nations, 
the Romish architects have so planned it, as that the 
sacerdotal order should constitute the Cloacce of the 
social edifice ; and thus have secured for Rome the 
honour of being, through these channels, the great 
Stercorary of the world ; How fitly in the language 
of prophetic vision is the apostate church designated — 
sitting as she does at the centre of the common drain- 
age of Europe — as the Mother of abominations, and 
as holding forth in shameless arrogance, the cup of the 
filthiness of her fornications ! 

The Church of Rome is without doubt entitled to 
the pre-eminence we have given her as the Nurse of 
sanguinary fanaticism. — Her doctrine begets cruelly ; 
— her polity demands it ; — and her clerical institute 
trains her ministers to the service she has need of. 
And that which the theory of this superstition would 
lead us to expect, history declares to have had actual 
existence. There is no other volume of human aflfairs 
that can for the abundance of execrable acts, come 
into comparison with the story of the papal tyranny. 
— If the Theory only of this system should go down 
to posterity, and its History be lost, no credit would 
be given to the affirmation that a scheme so unnatural 
had ever found a place in the world ; much less that 

et de se trouver exposez a de mauvaises odeurs, se font une habitude 
de n'en etre point incommodez. Dieu veuille que les Confesseurs 
et les Casuistes, dont les oreilles sont 1'Egout de toutes les im- 
mondices de la vie humaine, se pussent vanter d'un tel endur- 
cissement. II n'y en a que trop sans doute qui n'y parviennent 
jamais, et dont la vertu fait naufrage a I'ouie des dereglemens de 
leurs penitents. 



152 FANATICISM 

it had maintained its influence over civilized nations 
during a longer course of ages than could be boasted 
by the firmest and most extensive secular monarchies. 
Or if the History of the Romish Church v^ere to 
descend to distant times, and the theory of the system 
be forgotten, then must it certainly be thought that, 
during the thousand years, or more, of its unbroken 
power, a licence extraordinary had been granted to 
infernal malignants to usurp human forms, and to in- 
vade earth with the practices of hell ; or that the world 
from the seventh to the seventeenth century, had suf- 
fered a dark Millennium of diabolic possession. 

But while we have outspread before us, at once the 
theory and the history of Popery, we are able, by 
using the latter as a comment upon the former, and 
the former as a key to to the latter, to reconcile those 
notions of human nature and Divine Providence which 
we must devoutly cling to, with the hideous facts that 
admit, alas, of no dispute. The lesson we gain from 
such a digest is this — and one of more moment can 
hardly be found — That human nature, plastic as it is, 
and susceptible of all influences, may, by long expo- 
sure to the operation of a pernicious code, an immoral 
institute, and a despotic polity, become atrocious in 
a degree that confounds every distinction, between 
human and diabolical wickedness. If then, in any 
measure, we have gained advantage over such a 
system, and are actually driving it further and further 
towards the skirts of civilization, with how keen a 
jealousy should we look — not so much to the expiring 
remains of that same system, near us, as to those deep 
principles of ghostly usurpation which are very far 
from having been utterly crushed and destroyed, even 
in the freest of the European communities. 

Yet in the heat of our indignation, let justice be 
done to Rome. This justice makes a demand upon 
us under several heads. The topics are trite, but 
must not here be omitted. 

I. The specific guilt of the Papal tyranny is that 



OF THE BRAND. 153 

of having converted to the purposes of its spiritual 
usurpation those congenial corruptions of faith and 
practice which it found in readiness, and which it 
received from a higher age, recommended by the 
unanimous approval of Saints, Doctors, and illustrious 
Writers. But neither popes, nor cardinals, nor coun- 
cils, can fairly be accused, except in some single and 
less important instances, of originating (as if with 
malign ingenuity) the elements of the despotism 
which they administered. This main point of Church 
history has been too much obscured by Protestant 
controversialists. 

II. At once as a relief to the sad impression of 
human nature made by the history of popery, and as 
a tribute too to the mighty efficacy of Christianity, 
even when most corrupted, we have to keep in view 
the actual amount of virtue, humanity, piety — and the 
learning, the intelligence, and the bright excellence of 
every name, which has existed in all ages under the 
Papacy. Let us call this amount large — and indeed 
it is so: — assuredly the proofs of its extent would not 
soon be exhausted. We denounce the Romish doc- 
trine and polity, not on the charge that it excludes all 
religion and all virtue ; or that it renders the v)hole of 
its hierarchical body as corrupt as it renders many ; 
but only on this ground, that it generates a species of 
ferocity more malign than any other system has pro- 
duced, and that it never fails to have at its service 
a formidable number of inhuman beings, who want 
nothing but occasion to cover kingdoms with sorrow 
and blood. 

III. Yet the main article of the measure of equity 
which should be rendered to the Church of Rome is this 
— That even if unrivalled in cruelty, she is not alone 
in it ; but has been, if not eclipsed, worthily followed 
by each offset Church, and by almost every Dissident 
community.* — Those that have gone off to the remo- 

* It would be an injustice not to say that the Gluakers are clear of 
this guilt, and to their many peculiar merits, add the praise of being, 
not only as wise as serpents — but harmless as doves. 



154 



FANATICISM. 



test point of doctrine and polity — whose rule of belief 
and duty has been — in every article, the antithesis of 
Rome, and those too that have tilled the interval at 
every distance from the extremes; — all have wrought, 
in their day, the engine of spiritual oppression ; all 
have shewn themselves, in the hour of their pride, 
intolerant and merciless ; and all should look with 
shame to their several histories: — while the Church 
of Rome looks, or might look to hers, with horror. 

If nations, churches, and communities, as well as 
individuals, have a future retribution to fear ; then has 
almost every existing religious body a just cause of 
alarm. If a day is to come when the Righteous Ad- 
ministrator of human affairs, and Head of the Church, 
is to make manifest his detestation of ecclesiastical 
bloodshed and torments, shall the Church of Rome 
stand alone at the bar, or have no companions in 
punishment? Ought we not to think more worthily 
of the Justice of Heaven than to suppose it ? 

Leaving so high a theme, let the general inference 
be fully and clearly drawn — That gloomy doctrines 
and pernicious schemes of polity are therefore to be 
execrated, because, even without them, or where 
every influence is the most favourable, human nature 
scarcely avoids abusing the profound excitements of 
religion as the incentives or the pretexts of its ma- 
lignant passions. 



SECTION VII. 



FANATICISM OF THE BANNER. 



In escaping from the Consistory to the Camp, we seem 
to breath again. AVithout staying to inquire whether 
the greater sum of positive evil has been inflicted upon 
mankind by the fanatical priest or the fanatical soldier, 
it is certain that the sentiments with which we con- 
template the one course of action are vastly less oppres- 
sive than those excited by the other. 

Let but the energies of men be spent upon a broad 
field and under the open sky ; and let them but have 
to do with interests not of one kind only, but of many; 
and let but their motives of action embrace the principal 
impulses of our nature, and especially, let those who 
run such a course freely expose themselves to the j^er- 
ils and sufferings of the enterprise, and then it will 
always happen that admirable talents and fine quali- 
ties find play ; — talents and qualities such as are 
neither seen nor thought of within the shades of sacred 
seclusions, or in ecclesiastical halls. 

None but minds imbued with the darkest fanaticism 
can feel any complacent sympathy with the character 
and deeds of sacerdotal despots ; on the other hand 
there are few minds so frigid, or so pure, as not to kin- 
dle in following the story of exploits which (criminal 
as they may have been in their object and issue) yet 
sparkle with rare instances of valour, and are graced 



156 FANATICISM 

with the choicest examples of fortitude, mercy, and 
magnanimous contempt of selfish interests. 

And besides ; there is this capital disparity between 
the fanaticism of the Churchman and that of the Sol- 
dier — that while the oppressions and cruelties practised 
by the former are in all cases, and under every imag- 
inable condition — an atrocity, destitute of palliation 
or excuse, the deeds of the other have often been 
instigated by motives which go far to soften our disap- 
proval. In truth there are certain instances of this 
class of so mixed and ambiguous a kind, that we must 
shrink if called upon to say decisively whether the 
actors should be commended or condemned. It is 
easy and trite to affirm that aggressive and ambitious 
warfare is always immoral ; — and how flagrant is the 
guilt of aggressive war, waged under sacred banners, 
or at the alleged bidding of Religion ! But often the 
question of national existence has been inseparably 
connected with the question of faith ; and the alter- 
native of a people has been to crouch and to perish ; 
or to defend by the sword at once their Homes and 
Altars. He must be a stern moralist indeed who, in 
such cases would without reluctance pronounce a ver- 
dict Vk^hich must make the oppressor exult, and the 
oppressed despond. 

Compared with either of the two forms of fanaticism 
described in the preceding sections, that now to be 
considered is remarkable on account of its diversified 
combinations with other sentiments. Patriotism and na- 
tional pride, calculations of policy, the motives of trade, 
the desire of plunder, and the impulse of personal pas- 
sions — the resentments or the ambition of Chiefs, have 
all come in to mingle themselves with that more pro- 
found excitement which gave the first impulse to wars 
On account of religion. On the ground we have hith- 
erto traversed, every object almost has shewn the 
darkest colours, and has repelled the eye by a sombre 
and horrid uniformity — we have been making way 
through a valley of grim shadows — or a region illu- 
mined only by the fires which cruelty has lit up : — • 



OP THE BANNER. 157 

Spelunca alia fuit, vastoque imrtianis hiatu, 
Scrupea, tiitalacu nigro nemorumque tenebris ; 
Gluam super baud ullae poterant impune volantes 
Tendere iter pennis. — 

Veslibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orci, 
Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curse ; 
Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus, 
Et Metus, et nialesuada Fames, et turpis Egestas, 
Terribiles visu formae ; Leturnque Labosque ; 
Turn consanguineus Leti Sopor, et mala mentis 
Gaudia — 

But from these regions of woe we are to emerge ; 
and the prospect at once brightens with the pomp and 
movement of great enterprises. Empires are mustered 
on the ground, and the many nations of a continent, in 
the gaiety of their various attire, and with banners 
spread to the winds, are pouring on from side to side 
of the field. Or in other quarters, if clouds hang over 
the scene of action, yet there the constancy of human 
nature is shewing itself in deeds such as no other fields 
of war can boast. 

If then hitherto the danger has been lest we should 
admit feelings of disgust or of resentment toward our 
fellows, such as the spirit of the Gospel does not allow ; 
— the danger now is, lest a complacency should be 
awakened which the inflexible maxims of its morality 
cannot but condemn. 

The Romish Superstition has aflTorded the most sig- 
nal instance which the page of history at all presents, 
of the fanaticism of cruelty. For an example equally 
signal of the fanaticism of martial zeal and religious 
ambition, we must turn to the first propagation of the 
doctrine of Mohammed. 

To profess, or to feel a jealousy toward the Moham- 
medan faith, as if its rival merits might perhaps bring 
into question those of Christianity, would be a ridicu- 
lous aflfectation ; or would indicate an extreme imbe- 
cility of judgment. The time surely is gone by in 
which it might be proper anxiously to demonstrate 
that the Bible exhibits every quality fitting a revelation 
from God — the Koran none ; — or none after deducting 

15 



158 FANATICISM 

the materials that its author stole from the Prophets 
and the Apostles. The balance of Truth is in no jeop- 
ardy in this instance ; and therefore without solicitude 
we may do full justice as well to the founder as to the 
first propagators of the religion of the eastern world. 

In fairness, it should never be attempted to bring 
Mohammed into comparison with Him who came, 
" not to destroy men's lives, but to save." Nothing 
but a summary condemnation of the military zealot 
and his Caliphs could be the issue of such a contrast ; 
nor does it afford any needed advantage to Christi- 
anity, This contrast therefore being put out of view, 
many circumstances demand to be considered that 
should mitigate at least the feelings with which we 
are accustomed to regard the rise and spread of Islam. 

Those tides of the northern nations which at length 
swept away the Roman greatness, might be spoken of 
as mere evolutions of the physical energies of the 
great social system ; or as acts in the natural history 
of man, and acts too, the recurrence of which at 
intervals longer or shorter, may be looked for, unless 
prevented by opposing causes of another order. Shall 
it be deemed utterly incredible that the very same 
regions which heretofore have poured their ruinous 
torrents over southern Europe and Asia, may again 
do so ? Must it not be admitted as more than barely 
possible, that the decay of the commercial and military 
greatness of England and France — the only European 
nations that now efficiently sustain the civilization of 
the world, would, were it to take place, quickly be 
followed by a Scythian inundation, such as would 
leave (in this hemisphere at least) hardly a vestige of 
intelligence — and none of liberty? 

Now certainly in this sense it must not be affirmed 
that the Saracenic conquests were only natural expan- 
sions of a superabundant power; for an eruption from 
the same quarter has happened but once in the history 
of the world ; nor does it appear that it would have 
happened at all apart from the religious impulse 



OF THE BANNER. 159 

whence actually it sprang. Had not the Merchant of 
Mecca penetrated the seventh heaven, and brought 
down thence a spark which set the ambition of Arabian 
bosoms in a blaze, the very name of Saracen — with 
all the splendours that surround it, had hardly found a 
place on the page of history. Without Mohammed 
the Bedoween horsemen had probably continued, age 
after age, to sweep their native deserts — a terror only 
to traders and pilgrims. 

This being admitted, and while it is fully granted 
that the motive generated by the new religion was the 
proper incentive of Mohammedan warfare — the sup- 
port of its fortitude, the spring of its courage, and the 
reason of its success ; it is nevertheless true that a 
race so prince-like and so bold as that which occupied 
the Arabian wilderness, when once put in movement, 
and made to feel its actual and its relative strength, 
would necessarily conquer as it did conquer, and 
spread itself abroad where nothing existed that could 
match its force. The countries to the north, to the 
east, and to the west, lav as a rich inheritance of 
which the actual possessors had lost their title by 
extreme degeneracy, and which seemed to ask to be 
seized upon by men worthy to enjoy it. The Sara- 
cenic conquests, as we assume (though not in the 
same sense as those of the northern barbarians) par- 
took of a physical quality, and if in the main, con- 
quests of proselytism, were also the natural out-bursts 
of national energy over a surface which superstition 
and luxury had already, and long before vanquished. 

But leaving this ground, there is good room to 
inquire whether the project of bringing or of driving 
the much corrupted nations by force and terror into 
the path of truth, might not, to an ardent spirit, seem 
in the age of Mohammed both lawful and noble. 

Possessed of the first elements of theology (who 
shall say in what manner obtained ?) and standing in 
the position which he occupied, surrounded at hand 
by polytheism, and, more remotely, by the ruins of 



160 FANATICISM 

three fallen religious systems, was it strange that 
Mohammed should have deemed the sword an instru- 
ment of necessary severity, and the only instrument 
which could be trusted to for efficaciously reforming 
the world ? In listening to the apology * which the 
Prophet himself offers for the use of arms as a means 
of conversion, the belief at least is suggested that he 
had mused in a comprehensive manner upon the 
religious history and the actual state of mankind, and 
had deliberately come to the persuasion that the 
interests of the true God in this benighted world were 
utterly hopeless, unless at length they might be pro- 
moted and restored by the terrors of war.f Moham- 
med perhaps had convinced himself that so worthy 
and holy a purpose would well excuse any means that 
might bring it about. Christian doctors have enter- 
tained the same principle, and have made a worse use 
of it ; for assuredly we must hold the fabrication of 
miracles to be a worse immorality than the use of 
force employed because the pretension to miracles 
was scorned : and again, are not the judicial murders 
perpetrated by Spiritual despots more horrid than the 
open carnage of the field ? 
Looking round upon the world, such as it w^as 

* It is by no means always easy (especially through the medium 
of a translation) to follow the chain ^f the Prophet's reasonings or 
meditations; and the difficulty is increased by that ambiguity under 
which, from evident motives of policy, he skreened his real meaning 
when he had to speak of the Jewish and Christian economies, the 
votaries of which he aimed if possible to conciliate. Notwithstanding 
these obscurities, some such mode of thinking as that assumed above 
for Mohammed, makes itself dimly apparent in many passages of the 
Koran ; among others, the 42d and the four following chapters may 
be referred to. An under-tone of apology, in which, without com- 
promising his authority as the apostle of God, he excuses his measures 
as founder of a religion, runs through the rambling incoherencies of 
Mohammed. <, 

f " And if God did not repel the violence of some men by others, 
verily monasteries, and churches, and synagogues, and the templea 
of the Moslems, wherein the name of God is frequently commemo- 
ratedi would. b^B^erly demolished. And God will certainly assisi 
him wKb shMf^^on his side: for God ia strong and mighty ."-« 
Koran, chap. 22. 



bf ♦the banner. 161 

in the seventh century, what appeared to have been 
the result of the several successive endeavours to 
reclaim the nations from their inveterate superstitions, 
and their idolatries ? Not to insist upon the then 
decayed state of the religion of Zoroaster, Moham- 
med saw his countrymen, as well as many of the more 
luxurious people of Asia, deep sunk in the follies of 
polytheism. And some of these nations had fallen 
back far from the position they once occupied.* — 

— The theology and institutions of Moses, after 
struggling to exist on a single and narrow spot 
through a long course of ages, were then to be 
discerned only here and there in fragments, scat- 
tered over the world, like the broken embellishments 
and gilded carvings of a sumptuous palace which 
some lawless rout has overtaken and pillaged — 
strewing the earth with shining atoms of the spoil. 
Did it indeed then appear as if Jehovah, the God of 
Abraham had any purpose in reserve for converting 
the world by the agency of the Jewish people ? 
Rather it seemed that the obdurate and infatuated 
race was, in every religious sense, thrown aside and 
forgotten as a broken instrument. f — 

— Even a mind much more enlightened than that of 
Mohammed (as we are accustomed to think of him) 
might, while looking at Christendom in the seventh 
century, have come to the conclusion that the fate of 
the religion of Christ after an experiment on a large 
scale, carried on through six hundred years, forbade it 
to be any longer hoped that the mild means of mere 
instruction would peroianenlly avail to support truth 
in the world. A pure theology and a pure morality, 
sanctioned by miracles, had, as a system, apparently 

* " Say, Go through the earth and see what hath been the end of 
those who have been before you; the greater part of them were 
idolaters." — Koran, chap. 30. 

t " The Hkeness of those who were charsred with the observance 
of the law (the Jews) anei then observed it not, is as the likenesis of 
an ass laden with books." — Koran, chap. 62. 

15* 



162 FANATICISM 

spent itself; — had become worse than impotent; had 
covered the territories of ancient civiHzation with the 
noxious growth of superstition, so that idolatries- 
more degrading than the ancient polytheism, because 
men not divinities were the objects of it, had taken 
full possession as well of the eastern as the western 
nations* Could any other event, at that time, well 
be looked for but the speedy extinction of even the 
name of Christianity, and the giving way of the fee- 
ble barriers which still preserved the south from the 
savage forms of worship of the Scythian hordes T 
Mohammed — or if not he, any thoughtful observer, 
might with reason have regarded the human family a^ 
then hastening down a slippery descent towords the 
bottomless abyss of ignorance and utter atheism. He 
might thus have thought, and his inference would be 
strong, that the sudden use of even the most violent 
means, was lawful and good, if so the universal catas- 
trophe of the race might be prevented. 

It should now be regarded as a hopeless endeavour 
to determine, without doubt, the personal character of 
Mohammed ; and it might perhaps be better to direct 
attention rather to the system, than to its author. — ■ 
The supposition that he was a sheer Fanatic is op- 
posed, if not quite excluded, by the description given 
of the suppleness of his public conduct, of the courte- 
ousness of his manners, and of the ready and well- 
judged adaptation of his means of influence to the 
sudden and various occasions of the perilous enter- 
prise he had taken in hand. This supposition, more- 
over, it is hard, we will not say impossible, to reconcile 
to the fact of his having sustained fraudulent preten- 
sions, and of propagating delusions of which he could 
not have been himself the dupe. On the other hand, 
as well the Koran (although itself a vast plagiarism — a 

* The fifth chapter of the Koran affords evidence that Mohammed 
was well aware of the degeneracy of the Christian world. " Th© 
Christians have forgotten what they received from God." 



OP THE BANNER. 163 

booty, rather than the fair fruit of mental labour) and 
the pohtical and mihtary conduct of Mohammed, be- 
speak an elevated and impassioned soul. Those have 
not looked into that book, and have not perused the 
story of the Prophet's public life, who can think him 
a vulgar impostor, or believe that subtlety and craft 
were the principal elements of his character. If it 
be true that the author of the Koran has stolen his 
materials, yet must a man have had greatness and 
elevation of soul to have stolen as he has done. If, 
on the rich fields of sacred literature, he plundered — 
he plundered like a prince. The spoil which he 
gathered so largely from the Jewish and Christian 
Scriptures* might be likened to that with which cer- 
tain learned and munificent conquerors have graced 
their triumphs — they have indefed trampled upon and 
overthrown the ancient seats of arts and learning ; 
but yet have first snatched from the devastations of 
war each signal monument of greatness and beauty. 

Were it necessary at any rate to oflfer some solution 
of the ambiguous facts of Mohammed's character, 
recourse might be had to the principle that a mixture 
of incongruous moral elements does often take place 
by means of a sort of silent violence, done every day 
and hour to reason within the bosom. A wise and 
tranquil mind will not rest until it has adjusted its 
rules of action ; has determined what are to be its 
objects ; and (whether on the best model or not) yet 
brings the interior man into a condition of harmony 
and order. But there are minds, perhaps energetic, 
and rich in sentiment, that conscious of the utter in- 
compatibility of their leading impulses and principles, 

* It has been questioned whether Mohammed had ever seen the 
Christian Scriptures. That they were famihar to him it is hard not 
to believe in reaeing the Koran. Or even if the actual books had 
not come under his eye, the phraseology and sentiments of the evan- 
gelists and apostles he was certainly not ignerant of; these were to 
be met with every where, both in the east and the west. The sort of 
garbled allusion to the very text of the New Testament which 
abounds in the Koran may be seen at the close of chap. 4S. 



164 FANATICISM 

willfully abstain from the endeavour to reconcile the 
springs of action. Despairing to reach, or not even 
"wishing to reach, that unity of soul which virtue and 
wisdom delight in, they act, and think, and speak in 
alternate characters. Now the better, and now the 
worse interior personage assumes the hour, and struts 
upon the stage. Meanwhile the wondering world 
gaze perplexed, and disagree upon the enigma — 
whether the man be sage or sophist — hero or pol- 
troon.* 

Such perhaps was Mohammed : assuredly not truly 
wise and honest, any more than a sheer impostor. 
But whatever the Originator of the new profession 
might be, many of his companions and immediate suc- 
cessors — his vicars, possess an unquestionable claim to 
the praise of sincerity and genuine fervour ; and they 
have left to the admiration of posterity some of the 
rarest examples of greatness of soul. If Christianity 
were at all implicated in the comparison — which it is 
not, even remotely, we should shrink from a contrast 
between the Crusaders of the twelfth century, and the 
Caliphs of the seventh and eighth.f 

♦Certain zealous — should we say jealous divines of our own age 
and country — have seemed to think Christianity safe only when 
Mohammed was crushed under the weight of their anathemas. 
This mode of feeling one does not so much wonder to meet 
with among those whose position placed .them in actual rivalry 
with the Moslem faith. It is quite natural to hear a Spaniard — a 
Spanishpriest — an inquisitor, speak of Mohammed as — enganadordel 
mundo, Profeta faiso, nuncio de Satanis, el peor precursor del Anti- 
christo, CLunplimiento de todas las heregias, y prodigio de toda falsi- 
dad ; or to say all in a word — un demonio encarnado — F. J. Bleddf 
Hisloria del Falso Profeta Mahoma. The same writer, Inquisitor as he 
was, does not wonder that pestilences, and earthquakes, and atmos-" 
pheric prodigies attended the birth of an impostor who was to propa- 
gate his religion by violence, and to persecute the Church ! The 
Church, at least the writer's Church, amply took its revenge in the 
same kind. 

fThe perusal of Mohammedan history has a useful tendency 
in breaking down the prejudice which leads us to appropriate 
the common virtues to certain modes of thinking. Genuine piety 
demands indeed a genuine belief as its source and support. But 
those excellencies of conduct and character which may exist apart 
from Absolute Truth are to be met with all the world over ; and 



OP THE BANNER. 165 

Without doubt (as we shall presently see) every 
essential characteristic of fanaticism belonged to the 
temper and conduct of the Moslem leaders ; never- 
theless it is certain that the military religious maxims, 
and the usages of war established and generally 
adhered to by the Saracenic conquerors, were by no 
means such as comport with the indiscrimate and 
unconditional ferocity of men thoroughly rancorous, 
or natively cruel ; — far otherwise. Ordinarily (for 
instances must be excepted) the genuine zeal of pros- 
elytism prevailed over the fury of war : if fanaticism 
ran through the exploits and policy of the martial zeal- 
ots, it was still a fanaticism that leant more to the side 
of enthusiasm, than of malice, and that readily ad- 
mitted a generosity which the ecclesiastic (when he 
takes the sword) seldom thinks of and which the sol- 
dier as seldom forgets. Or to speak a volume in a 
word, the fanaticism of the Mohammedan conquests 
was that of warriors, not that of Monks. 

Common motives of policy, to the exclusion of sin- 
cere motives of religion, will by no means suffice to 
account for the rule early adopted by Mohammed, and 
adhered to by his immediate successors, of offering to 
Idolators no other choice than that of conversion or 
death ;* while any who professed the worship of the 
one God — whether Jews or Christians, might purchase 
by tribute the liberty to go unhurt and at leisure on 
their own path to perdition. f So long as the doc- 
trine of the Divine Unity were but acknowledged, 
errors of profession were tolerated ; and if the tribute 
laid upon conscience was heavy, it did not exceed the 
measure customary with Asiatic conqueror^. The 
lenity thus shewn by Mohammed to the followers of 
Moses and of Christ, places his conduct in contrast 
with that of most zealots, whose rule has been to spend 

certainly the Moslem nations have produced their share of shining 
examples. That mixture, of crimes and virtues, vv'hich belong-s to 
history generally, is met with as well in Ferisihta as in William of 
Tyre. 

*As in chaps. 48 and 9, jChap. 9. 



166 



FANATICISM 



their indulgence upon whoever stood most remote in 
faith from their standard ; while all the stress of their 
inexorable spite was made to press upon the sectarists 
of the next shade. Let the Arabian prophet be called 
Heresiarch and Impostor ; — yes, but a Reformer too. 
He kindled from side to side of the eastern world an 
extraordinary abhorrence of idol worship, and actu- 
ally cleansed the plains of Asia from the long settled 
impurities of polytheism. Did he overthrow Chris- 
tianity in Syria, in Africa, in Spain? — no, Superstition 
only ; for Christianity had died away from those coun- 
tries long before. 

A respect for man, for nature — for God, a respect 
not characteristic of the frenzied zealot, was shewn in 
the injunction so strictly laid upon the Moslem armies 
• — Not to destroy the fruits of the earth — not to disturb 
the labours of the husbandman — not to cut down the 
grateful palm or the olive — not to poison or to stop the 
wells — to spare the old and the young — the mother 
and her babes, and in a word, to abridge war, as far 
as might be done, of its horrors. In reading these 
military orders, and in following the march of the 
caliphs who received them, it is impossible to exclude 
from the mind the recollection of wars waged by Chris- 
tians — most Christian kings, not against distant and 
equal foes, but upon their own unoffending and help- 
less subjects — wars which left nothing behind them 
but smoking ruins and a blood-sodden wilderness. 
Call Mohammed fanatic or impostor; but language 
wants a term — or if it might afford one, the rule of 
Christian propriety forbids it to be used, which should 
fitly designate the Philips, the Ferdinands, the Louises 
of our modern European history. 

The Caliphs possessed an incalculable advantage, 
as compared (for example) with the Leaders of the 
Crusades, in not being the tools or agents of a sacer- 
dotal class ; but in uniting in their single persons every 
office that naturally commands the submission of man- 
kind. The combination of the regal or patriarchal, 
the military, and the sacred functions, in one office, 



OP THE BANNER. 167 

whatever inconveniences it may have entailed, yet 
served to attemper and to invigorate each. The same 
venerated personage — now calmly administering jus- 
tice as civil chief — now fired with valour and at the 
head of armies ; and now — strange spectacle, in the 
pulpit, enforcing the principles and duties of religion, 
would be likely, in recollection of his alternate char- 
acters, to exercise the first office with at once a 
religious impartiality and a martial firmness — the 
second with humanity, and the third with a liberality 
of feeling larger than belongs to the mere ecclesiastic, 
and borrowed from the sentiments proper to the king 
and the captain. At the same time the people would 
be apt to look — to their civil Chief with a religious 
affection, to their General with the confidence of faith, 
and to their Teacher as to one whose words carried 
all the authority which Heaven and earth together can 
confer. 

If Christianity be not answerable, as certainly it is 
not, for the arrogance and the crimes of princes and 
prelates bearing Christian titles ; so neither should we 
call in question the religious system of Mohammed on 
account of the horrors and devastations that attended 
the Tartar conquests of a later period. This rule of 
equity kept in view, we have to look simply to the 
Koran and to the general conduct of its early promul- 
gators. — • 

— And after every due extenuation has been admit- 
ted, nothing can be said but that the martial zeal of 
the Moslem was an egregious fanaticism. The rise 
and the characteristics of this vehement impulse is a 
proper object of curiosity. 

In not generating a pure and universal philanthropy 
Mohammedism was not worse than other false 
religions ; — and in this respect it was not better. 
Notwithstanding its just praise of teaching, and teach- 
ing with much clearness and energy, the great and 
first principle of Theology, it quite failed of producing 
that unrestrained good-will to man which is the 



■I 



168 FANATICISM 

natural consequence of love to God. To profess to 
love God, whsle on any pretext we entertain a ran- 
corous contempt of our fellov^^ men, is the most 
enormous of all inconsistencies. No ingenuity of the 
theologian can make it seem reasonable that those, 
however depraved in faith or manners, toward whom 
the Universal Parent, as Creator and Preserver, is 
shewinor kindness, and whom He loads dailv with his 
benefits, should be regarded by the true worshippers 
of God with a bitterness which God himself does not 
display. Men who like ourselves are inhaling the 
vital air — are enjoying animal existence — are receiv- 
ing nourishment from food — are sleeping and are 
waking refreshed from their beds, such, whatever 
may be their errors or their crimes, are manifestly not 
yet shut out from the pale of the Divine Indulgence : 
— God has not yet cursed them : — how then can we 
dare anticipate His wrath ? The feeling that would 
prompt us so to do, or the dogmas that would justify 
such a feeling, must be hideously false and wrong. 
Yet this capital flaw attached from the first to the 
religion of the Prophet. 

A knowledge of God is found to avail little apart 
from a knowledge of ourselves, and unless some 
genuine emotions of contrition have broken down the 
pride of the heart, the abstract truth of the Divine 
Unity and perfections seems only to inflame our 
arrogance, and to prepare us to be inexorable and 
cruel. So it was in the system of Mohammed ; — it 
had no true philanthropy, because it had no humilia- 
tion, no tenderness and penitence — no method of 
propitiation.* 

* The phrase " God will favour the true believers and forgive their 
sins," very often occurs in the Koran. But the doctrine of pardon, 
and the feelings connected with it, are nowhere expanded or defined. 
Final salvation turns entirely upon personal merit; see chap. 23. At 
the last day, " they whose balances shall be heavy with good works, 
shall be happy : but they whose balances shall be light, are those who 
shall lose their souls, and shall remain in hell for ever." Repentance, 
in the sense of the Koran, means turning from idolatry to the true 



OP THE BANNER. 169 

The Koran does indeed teach and inspire a pro- 
found reverence toward God ; and it has actually 
produced among its adherents in an eminent degree, 
that prostration of the soul in the presence of the 
Supreme Being which becomes all rational creatures. 
But at this point it stops. Moslem humiliation has no 
tears ; and as it does not reach the depths of a heart- 
felt repentance, so neither is it cheered by that 
gratitude which springs from the consciousness of 
pardon. No sluices of sorrow are opened by its 
devotions ; — the affections are not softened : there is 
a feverish heat among the passions, but* no moisture. 
Faith and confidence toward God are bold rather than 
submissive, and the soul of the believer, basking in a 
presumption of the divine favour, might be compared 
to the scorched Arabian desert, arid, as it is, and 
unproductive, and liable too to be heaved into billows 
by the hurricane. 

No other religious system has gone so far in quash- 
ing that instinct of guilt and shame which belongs to 
man as a transgressor, and which impels him to look 
for some means of propitiation. The divine favour is 
secured by the Koran to whoever makes hearty pro- 
fession of the unity of God and the apostleship of Mo- 
hammed. Almsdeeds, punctuality in devotions, and 
above all, valour in the field, exclude every doubt of 
salvation. No sentiment found a place that could 
open the heart to the upbraidings of conscience. Islam 
is the Religion of Pride ; — the religion of the sword.* 

We should not omit to notice the contrast which 
presents itself between the Moslem and Christian 
systems on this capital point. All religious history 

faith, see chap. 9. Or if, as in chap. 4, the Avord be used in a broader 
sense, yet is the range allowed to contrition very limited. Nothing 
like a system of propitiation is contained in Mohammed's theology. 

♦ " prophet ! God is thy support, and such of the true believers 
who follow thee. — prophet ! stir up the faithful to war : if twenty 
of you persevere with constancy, they shall overcome two hundred," 
&c. Koran, chap. 8. " Verily God loveth those who fight for his reli- 
gion in battle array." Chap. 61. 

16 



170 FANATICISM 

may be challenged to produce an exception to the rule, 
that the Christian doctrine of forgiveness of sins is the 
only one which has generated an efficacious and 
tender-spirited philanthropy. — It is this doctrine, and 
no other, that brings into combination the sensitiveness 
and the zeal necessary to the vigour of practical good- 
will toward our fellow men. Exclude this truth, as it 
is excluded by sceptical philosophy, and then philan- 
thropy becomes a vapid matter of theory and medita- 
tion. Distort it with the Church of Rome, and the 
zeal of charity is exchanged for the rancour of prosely- 
tism. Quash it, as the Koran does, and there springs 
up in the bosoms of men a hot and active intolerance. 
The Christian (and he alone) is expansively and assid- 
uously compassionate ; and this, not merely because 
he has been formally enjoined to perform the " seven 
works of mercy ;" but because his own heart has been 
softened throughout its very substance — because tears 
have become a usage of his moral Hfe, and because he 
has obtained a vivid consciousness of that divine com- 
passion, rich and free, which sheds beams of hope upon 
all mankind. 

The correspondence is natural and real, though it 
may not be obvious, between the notions entertained 
of the joys of heaven, and the conceptions that are 
formed of the world of punishment ; — the latter article 
of belief takes its quality inversely from the former. 
Is it not seen in every country that the Palace and the 
Dungeon are correlatives ? Wherever the one is filled 
with extravagant and shameless debauchery, the other 
is found to be furnished with racks, and will be the 
abode of forgotten despair. And so the sensualities 
of Mohammed's paradise are borne out by parallel 
horrors — gross and barbaric, which, in the speciality 
of the description given of them, could not fail highly 
to inflame the malignant passions.* This irritating 
influence reached a pitch of frenzy upon the field of 

* An adduction of the passages may be well excused. 



OF THE BANNER. 171 

battle ; for there the question of salvation or damna- 
tion lay on the ground between the marshalled armies, 
to be fought for and carried by the stronger arm. 
Never perhaps in the history of mankind have the 
appalling ideas of the invisible world so much and so 
distinctly mingled with the fury of mortal strife as in 
the instance of Moslem warfare. To the eye of the 
Saracen the smoke of the infernal pit appeared to 
break up from the ground in the rear of the infidel 
lines, and its sulphurous steam obscured the embattled 
field. — As the squadrons of the faithful moved on to 
the charge, that pit yawned to receive the miscreant 
host ; and in chasing the foe, the champions of God 
and his prophet believed that they were driving their 
antagonists down the very slopes of perdition. When 
at length steel clashed upon steel, and the yell of death 
shook the air — the strife w^as not so much betw^een 
arm and arm, as between spirit and spirit ; and each 
deadly thrust was felt to pierce the life at once of the 
body and of the soul. 

Hatred, which is softened by contempt toward a 
fallen and unresisting foe, is embittered by the same 
feeling so long as opposition is offered. To respect 
our adversary is to admit those sentiments of generosity 
which spring from the interchanged sympathies of 
virtue ; but to loathe him, is to resent his hostility as 
an impudent presumption that assails our personal 
honour. The Arabian armies, after the Peninsula 
itself had been conquered, scarcely encountered an 
enemy that they did not look upon with a just disdain. 
The prophet had already told them that misbelievers 
were dogs ; — and every excursion they made beyond 
their native deserts served to verify his words. The 
human race had become in that age effeminate and 
debauched in an unexampled degree. Superstition, 
with its idle solicitudes, its mummeries, and its despot- 
ism, had at length thoroughly worked itself into the 
mind of the (once) Christian nations, both of the east 



172 FANATICISM 

and west.* The profligacy which attends a decaying 
empire, and the hypocrisy of monkish virtue had joined 
together in the work of debasing and enfeebhng every 
principle of human action. The common sense and 
the virtue proper to that " common life" against which 
all the doctors of the Church, during four centuries, 
had inveighed, and from which they had effectively 
removed every corroborative and elevating motive, 
had disappeared ; no healthy mean, no sound and solid 
foundation remained to support the social structure : — 
The objects that met the eye in the countries swayed 
by the Byzantine emperors were the cowled tenants 
of the monastery — the debauched retainers of palaces, 
or the faithless and insubordinate soldiers of the mer- 
cenary legions. 

When the princely men of the Arabian desert, 
great as they were in a steady physical courage — 
great in a condensed and sententious energy of un- 
derstanding, and great in simplicity of manners — a 
simplicity not rude but poetic ; when these heros- 
born, broke their limits and trod the open world, 
their feeling must have been like that of a veteran 
garrison which, having believed itself to be hemmed 
in by superior forces, at last descends from its citadel, 
and in scouring the plains and woods around, meets 
only with frightened herds and flocks. To dispossess 
nations so unworthy of the bounties of nature, to 
overthrow governments so corrupt ; and especially, 
to rid the world of superstitions so absurd and foui, 
might seem to be a work worthy of the servants 
of God. 

The martial fanaticism of the Saracenic armies 
presents a contrast on almost every point if compared 

* Mohammed, it is certain, drew his knowledge of Christianity 
and of Christians chiefly from the neighbouring country — Egvpt, 
where perhaps more than any where else, superstition had vilified 
humanity, and had converted every principle of religion into a pre- 
posterous folly. The conquest of Egypt fixed upon the mind s of the 
Caliphs their contempt of the professors of the Gospel. 



OF THE BANNER. 173 

with that of the Crusaders. Both in the elements and 
in the circumstances, these religious enterprises are 
dissimilar. The zeal of the Moslem armies was a 
passion for proselyting the world ; that of the Crusa- 
ders was a mixed sentiment, drawing its force from 
historic recollections, from the desire of revenge, from 
the influence of superstition, and from grosser reasons 
of cupidity and ambition. The Caliphs waged war 
upon Religious Error — wherever found ; and the task 
they undertook was to vanquish the souls of men, 
and to drag them captive to the throne of the True 
God ; — the intention of these chiefs, though misin- 
formed, was elevated and comprehensive. But the 
Crusaders (so far as their motive was strictly religious) 
thought only of a local conquest, and of a definite 
triumph : — give them but possession of a certain cave 
in the suburb of an unimportant dilapidated town, 
and they wished no more. Moreover the enterprise 
to recover the Holy City, though aggressive in its 
aspect, was also in a sense defensive, for not merely 
did the Christian nations seek protection on behalf of 
their pilgrims, but desired to regain an inestimable 
possession whicli Christendom, by every claim of 
history and of feeling, might challenge as its own. 

In attendant circumstances also the two enterprises 
greatly differed. As the one was an emanation from 
a centre over a wide surface, and the other, a rushing 
in from a wide surface toward a single point, so the 
characteristic of the first is the grandeur of simplicity ; 
that of the second, the magnificence of accumulation. 
There was a harmony, sublime though terrible, in the 
early diffusion of the religion of Mohammed : — the 
high-minded and never-conquered Arab — the same 
being in all ages and climates, and much less liable 
than other men to admit modifications of his opinions 
or manners from foreign sources, presented himself 
haughtily on the frontiers of every land — Africa, 
Spain, Persia, India, China, and in the same stern 

16* 



174 FANATICISM 

and sententious language summoned all men to sur- 
render faith, or liberty, or life. 

But the Crusades poured a feculent deluge, up- 
heaved from the long stagnant deeps of the European 
communities, upon the afflicted Palestine. The dregs, 
the scum, and the cream of the western world — its 
nobility and its rabble, in promiscuous rout, flowed 
toward the sepulchre at the foot of Calvary. The 
Saracenic conquests might be compared to a sun-rise 
in the tropics, when the deep azured night, with its 
sparkling constellations, is almost in a moment ex- 
changed for the glare of day, and when the fountain 
of light not only darts his beams over the heavens, 
putting the stars to shame, but, with a tyrannous 
fervour claims the world as his own. The Crusades 
might be better resembled to the tornado, which, 
sweeping over some rich Polynesian sea, and rending 
up all things in its course, heaps together upon a 
distant shore the confused wrecks of nature and of 
human industry. 

The motley host that dragged its length across the 
plains of the lesser Asia was not more various in its 
blazonments and banners than were the motives of 
the crowd ; and the many-coloured embellishments of 
the enterprise as they glittered in the sun under the 
walls of Nice, or of Antioch, might be regarded as 
symbolizing the heterogeneous impulses that had 
brought so many myriads from their homes. But 
the accessory motives, whether of the chiefs or the 
rabble, do not belong to our subject: — the spirit of 
adventure, the secular ambition, the cupidity, or the 
sheer superstition are to be set off as accidents merely 
of that genuine infatuation which, at intervals during 
nearly two hundred years, convulsed the European 
nations. 

If there had been no crusade in the age of igno- 
rance, would there have been one in the age of 
knowledge ? We dare not affirm such a conjecture 
to be probable; and yet would not grant it to be 



OF THE BANNER. 175 

altogether groundless. The folhes, the miseries, and 
the ill success that attended the endeavour of the 
European states to possess themselves of a land in 
which they had every right sentiment can confer, 
have branded with reprobation an enterprise that 
otherwise might have seemed not unreasonable, even 
to the men of more enlightened times. Let the case 
be stated abstractedly. — That the most powerful na- 
tions of the world — a great community of nations, 
professing the same faith, should patiently see, on 
their very border, a land every foot of which had 
become memorable by association with the events of 
their religion, trodden down by an inimical supersti- 
tion, while themselves were barely indulged with 
leave of setting foot upon it, is a fact that would not 
have been thought probable ; and which, we almost 
believe, would not to the present time have been 
endured, if the phrenzy of the twelfth century had 
not affixed an indelible contempt upon the project of 
reclaiming the birth-place of Christianity for Chris- 
tendom. 

Had there been no crusade in the twelfth century, 
there might then we imagine have been one in the 
seventeenth : — not, assuredly, in the nineteenth ; for 
Christianity at the present moment although it com- 
mands too much regard, and is too well understood to 
allow of its giving sanction to religious warfare ; yet 
is far from supporting that once powerful feeling which 
made the sacred sites objects of impassioned curiosity. 
The very reverse was true in the age of Urban 11. 
— Too little understood in its spirit and maxims to 
repress the enterprise, Christianity nevertheless then 
held an undisputed sway over the imaginations, the 
hopes and the fears of the mass of mankind through- 
out Europe. The idea of a conquest so desirable 
being once presented, nothing could be more natural 
than that the crusading zeal should flame out, and burn 
from year to year with a constant intensity. This 
ardour was in fact not to be quenched until a long 



176 FANATICISM 

series of unexampled miseries and misfortunes had 
rendered the design of maintaining the Christian power 
in the east hopeless. If the war had been so conduct- 
ed as to have ensured early success ; — and success 
was at one time by no means impossible, the history 
of all nations must have taken a different turn, and 
Asia, perhaps, and Europe might, after a while, have 
met in emulous friendship upon the spot which nature 
has marked out as the true metropolitan site of the 
world. 

The fanaticism of the Crusades cannot be deemed 
any thing more than an out-burst of that exalted and 
imaginative superstition which had become ripe in 
every country of Europe. The military sentiment 
moreover, had then reached a pitch which demanded 
opportunity to spend itself; and the two vehement 
principles — the religious and the military, being alike 
under the control of the sacerdotal order,* nothing else 
could well happen than that some enterprise of con- 
quest, directed and incited by the ministers of religion, 
should engage the energies of men. Perhaps the 
Church could not at all have retained her power over 
the western nations in the quickened condition they 
were just entering upon, if she had not at that very 
moment put herself at the head of the ruHng passion 
of the age. 

How far the Chiefs of the Church discerned her 
critical interests when the enterprise was first started, 
it is impossible certainly to know. But that the Cru- 
sades became at length a matter of policy and calcula- 
tion at Rome is abundantly evident. Still the genuine 

* The ecclesiastics who attended the Crusades were not on every 
occasion able to hold that supremacy at which they aspired. A no- 
table instance of their failure occurred immediately upon the capture 
of Jerusalem. — Huict iours apres la prince de Hierusalem les princes 
chrestiens tindrent conseil pour eslire un chef d'entr'eux, contre le 
vouloir des Evesques qui vouloient premierement faire eslection d'un 
Patriarche, et par iceluy Patriarche estre esleu et sacre apres un Roy, 
neantmoins en fin fut esleu de la pluralile ie due Godefroy, lequel iis 
menerent et presenterent au sainct sepulchre, avec Hymnes el Can- 
piques, donnant ioiiange a Dieu. — Cronique de Jformandie, 



OF THE BANNER. 177 

fanaticism continued to mingle itself, as it readily does, 
with sinister and mercenary views ; and pontiffs and 
monks, without losing sight of those palpable objects 
which ordinarily ruled their conduct, surrendered 
themselves heartily to the current of the general en- 
thusiasm. 

In each succeeding Crusade there appears to have 
been, on the part of the hierarchy, less of the pure 
fanaticism of the enterprise, and more of political cal- 
culation ; until at length the latter element had so 
nearly absorbed the former that the Church could no 
longer even feign the zeal requisite for exciting and 
maintaining the ardour of the people. It w^as just in 
this languishing state of the crusading sentiment that a 
new^ virulence was shed into it by Innocent III. who 
finding that the effigy of the Saracen would no longer 
serve to set the vindictive passions of Europe in a 
flame, substituted that of the Heretic ; and forthwith 
Albigenses, not Moslems, became the victims of the 
martial frenzy of the catholic world. 

Already we liave found occasion to regret that 
men who stood confessed as the intellectual leaders of 
the age in which they lived, and w^ho, by right at once 
of ecclesiastical rank, of personal character, and of 
real mental power, enjoyed almost an unlimited influ- 
ence, did not stop to ask whether the actual course of 
human affairs, and the tendency of opinions and prac- 
tices was indeed good and rational, or preposterous 
and fatal. Were any such censorial function exercised 
by the ruling minds of every age, and were there a 
court of public conscience, wherein right and wrong, 
on a large scale, should be calmly examined, not only 
might single flagitious acts be prevented ; but the in- 
sensible progression of degeneracy might be retarded ; 
and even a happy return frequently made to the path 
of reason and virtue. In casting the eye over the 
busy scene of European affairs in the twelfth century, 
it is natural to ask if the great community of the 
western nations did not furnish at least some one 



1 



V7S FANATICISM 

eminent spirit, capable of applying the simple rules of 
Christian ethics, and the plain maxims of common 
eense, to the project of the Crusade. Or allowing the 
infatuation — plausible as it certainly appeared, to take 
its course unchecked at the first, and to run itself out 
through a full fifty years, was it not natural that the 
few accomplished spirits of the age should at length 
have brought the entire folly under review^ and have 
stepped forward to disenchant the nations ? 

For performing such a work of reason and charity, 
whom better should we look to than to Bernard of 
Clairvaux ? Is his personal ability to discharge such 
an office questioned ? — It was personal ability, unaided 
by adventitious means — it was mere power of mind 
and the momentum of individual character that raised 
him to a position, in the European community, of more 
extensive influence than any five human beings known 
to history have occupied. As simple monk, and then 
as abbot — emaciate, demure, downcast in look — a 
mere shadow or apparition of humanity, who, if seen 
in the choir among his companions, would have 
attracted no eye — this Bernard had come to such 
authority that he spoke law in the ears of sovereign 
pontiflfs — made princes tremble, or rejoice, and so 
ruled the waves of the popular mind as to be able to 
raise or allay the storms of national tumult at pleasure. 
True indeed it is that no mind, how energetic soever, 
could have acquired or sustained any such power in 
an age of intelligence. It was the superstition of the 
times — at once profound and vehement, which afforded 
means and opportunity for the exercise of an autocracy 
of this sort. Yet assuredly he who could actually win 
and hold it, must be regarded as no ordinary being. 
And although the age was blind, credulous, and 
infatuated, Bernard reared his influence, in the main, 
not by cajolery and imposition, but by those arduous 
and genuine methods which an upright mind has 
recourse to. Learned and laborious ; self-denying, 
calm, and disinterested, copious and accomplished^ 



OF THE BANNER, 179 

and, need it be said, eloquent, he could well support 
in personal intercourse with men of any rank, the 
reputation which he possessed by common fame. If 
in any thing his celebrity rested on fictitious preten- 
sions, he might without hazard have renounced what- 
ever was unsubstantial.* 

Might not then this potent monk, who had fair 
opportunity of gathering up the lessons furnished by 
the history and calamities of the first Crusade, have 
discerned and have asserted truth and morality, as 
applicable to such an enterprise, and so have saved 
myriads of lives, and have prevented innumerable 
crimes ? Alas, instead of thus standing in the breach, 
and effecting peace between Europe and Asia, St. 
Bernard, with the Gospel on his lips, incited again the 
western nations to make a furious assault upon their 
brethren of the east : and in so doing became actively 
the author of incalculable miseries and bloodshed ! 

However little analogy there may appear to be 
between our own position in the nineteenth century 
and that of the preachers and leaders of a Crusade in 
the twelfth, it may prove not uninstructive to examine 
somewhat more closely the remarkable instance 
before us. — 

♦ Not the slightest historical difficulty attaches to the great mass 
of Church wonders. Folly, fraud, and preposterous credulity are 
stamped upon them in the plainest characters. The perplexity 
arises in those few exceptive instances in which men of sense 
(although superstitious) and men whose honesty and piety, in the 
main, we cannot readily grant to be questionable, acted a promi- 
nent part in the drama of miracles. Not that this perplexity at all 
implies evidence to which we should listen in favour of the miracle 
itself; — for this is altogether wanting; but a real enigma presents 
itself when we endeavour to set an esteemed and respectable name 
quite free from the charge of collusion with knaves. St. Bernard — if 
we take the word of his biographers, wrought many more miracles 
than Paul probably had done. And it appears from certain expres- 
sions in his letters and tracts that he did not disclaim the reputation 
of a wonder-worker. His personal credit is therefore implicated in 
the business. We must at present leave the riddle as we find it; 
only saying that Bernard's real and indubitable merits were such as 
might well have borne the deduction of all the prodigies with which 
his encomiasts have burdened his fame. 



180 FANATICISM 

— The violence of rude minds spends itself soon, 
and commonly includes the means of its own correc- 
tion. But when measures essentially unjust and 
absurd are promoted by men who, having under 
command their own passions, are able at leisure to 
work upon the passions of others — when the tones of 
moderation and the stores of learning are employed 
for perverse uses — it is then that the mischief spreads 
and endures. Peter the Hermit was indeed author of 
one Crusade ; but could never have excited another. 
St. Bernard, who, with supercilious brevity * alludes 
to his predecessor as an extravagant fanatic, not 
merely kindled the Crusade of 1148; but gave so 
powerful a sanction to the desire of conquering the 
Holy Land, that without unfairness, the luckless expe- 
ditions which occupied the next century may, in great 
part, be charged to his influence. 

If those of the epistles of St. Bernard which relate 
to the Crusade, and if his Exhortation to the Knights 
Templars, could be read without knowledge of the 
specific intention, or without recollection of the histo- 
rical facts whereto they relate, one might easily 
believe that the project in question was one fully 
recommended by wisdom and benignity, and sanc- 
tioned by Religion. How sedate and measured is 
the language — how temperate the incitements — how 
discreet the particular advices — how full-fraught is 
every page with the serenity, the forethought, the 
circumspection becoming a chief ! — and how copious 
is the adduction of Scripture ! almost every sentence 
revolves upon a text : — the sighs of piety rise in fumes 
from every paragraph — ejaculatory prayer inspirits 
many a sonorous period. Yes, here we find the very 
substance of fanaticism quite stripped of whatever one 

* Fuit enim in priore expeditione, antequam Jerosolyma caperetar, 
vir quidam, Petrus nomine, cnjus et vos (nisi fallor) saepe mentionem 
audistis. Is populum qui sibi crediderat, solum cum suis incedens 
tantis periculis dedit, ut aut nulli, aut paucissirai eorum evaserint, qui 
non corruerint, aut fame, aut gladio. — Ep. 363. 



OF THE BANNER. 181 

would call fanatical ; and graced too by whatever 
appears wise and devout. Already we have turned 
aside to contemplate an instance of the madness of 
asceticism, gravely mantled and philosophic, in the 
person of the Cappadocian primate ; now we have 
before us a form not less philosophic, or celestial ; — it 
is that of the seraphic, the politic, and the accom- 
plished Bernard — chief patron and mover of the 
madness of religious military ambition ! 

Those who will sny that illusions and infatuations 
of this elaborate order, tranquilly affecting the very 
elements of the character, belong only to ages of 
mental slavery and superstition, and are not now to 
be looked for as possible, assuredly have something yet 
to learn of the philosophy of human nature ; and, not 
improbably, are themselves the victims of some similar 
deep-spread error. St. Bernard, calmly seated in his 
cell — the Gospels open before him, and with the events 
of the first Crusade fresh in his recollection, thought 
that nothing was more praiseworthy or pious than to 
lash the passions of the western nations to a new fury 
for exterminating the infidel power in the east.* 

That identity of sentiment, and even of language 
which characterises the same fanaticism under circum- 
stantial differences, it is curious and instructive to 
notice^ Mohammed doubts not a moment the lawful- 
ness of propagating the true faith by the sword : — the 
very same plenary conviction runs through the pages 
of St. Bernard. The prophet of Mecca says — Fight 
for God, and he will pardon all your sins, and infalli- 
bly give you the delights of Paradise. The monk of 
Clairvaux, on behalf of the Church, and in her name, 
assures to every Crusard a full remission of all sins, 

* Though carried away by the specific fanaticism of the Crusade, 
St. Bernard did not forget mercy and justice in all instances. In 
several of his epistles he decisively condemns the violences of which 
the Jews were at that time the victims. Audivimus et gaudemus, 
ut in vobis ferveat zelus Dei: sed oportet omnino temperamentum 
scieniifE non deesse. Non sunt persequendi Judasi, non sunt tru- 
cidandi, sed nee effugandi quidem. — Ep. 363. 

17 



182 FANATICISM 

and the blessedness of a martyr, beyond doubt, if he 
fell in the holy war.* To be slain, says the saint, is 
to benefit yourself; — to slay, is to benefit Christ ! Im- 
partially balanced, whom shall we first excuse, or 
whom rigorously condemn ? The one, by violence 
and carnage would fain vanquish the world to God : — 
the other, by the like means, thought to achieve a 
revenge for the Church, and to effect a clearance of a 
single superstition from a single spot.f Both egregi- 
ously misunderstood the Divine Character; both 
frightfully abused the language and the motives of 
religion : — the difference is only in the terms and style, 
and in the magnitude and grandeur of the project. 

* Habes nunc fortis miles, habes vir bellicose, ubi dimices absque 
periculo : ubi et vincere gloria, et niori lucrum. Si prudens mercator 
es, si conquisitor hujus siEculi ; magnas tibi nundinas indico ; vide ne 
pereant. Suscipe crucis .signum, et omnium par iter, de quibus corde 
contrilo confessionem feceris, indulgentiam obtinebis. Materia ipsa 
si emilur, parvi constat : si devoto assumitur humero, valet sine dubio 
regnum Dei. — Ep. 563. The English barons, (Ep. 423,) are told by 
St. Barnard that the messenger he had despatched would not only 
explain the business of the Crusade at large, and narrate what 
had been effected, but exhibit to them — largissimam veniam quae 
in Uteris dominiPapae, super eos qui cruces susceperunt, continetur. 
The Book, de Laude Novae Mihtias, ad Milites Templi, exhibits, 
page after page, elevated and impassioned religious sentiments, thick- 
set with Scriptural quotations, and the whole purport of this elo- 
quence is to stimulate the murderous passions of mankind. The 
lawfulness of the enterprise, and its merit, and the certainty of salva- 
tion to those who should fall in the attempt, are every where, and 
in the boldest terms affirmed. Securi igitur procedite milites, et 
intrepido animo inimicos crucis Christi propellite, certi quia neque 
mors, neque vita poterunt vos seperare a caritate Dei, quae est in 
Christo Jesu ; iliud sane vobiscum in omni periculo replicantes : Sive 
vivimus, sive morimur Domini sumus ! Gluam gloriosi revertuntur 
victcres de proelio ! quam beati moriuntur martyres in proeho ! . . . . 
Miles, inquam, Christi, secup.us interimit, interit securior. Sibi 
praestat cum interit; Christo cum interimit! This might well be 
given as a pointed version of more than one passage in the Koran : — 
so like is fanaticism to fanaticism, all the world over. 

f Commota est et contremuit terra, quia Rexcceli perdidit terram 
suam, terram ubi steterunt pedes ejus. Inimici crucis ejus .... 
officinas redemptionis nostras evertere moliuntur, et loca Christi 
sanguine dedicata profanare contendunt, Praecipue autem illud 
Christianas religionis insigne, sepulcrum, inquam, in quo sepultus est 
Dominus majestatis, ubi facies ejus sudario ligata est, omni nisa 
nituntur eveWexe.—Ep. 423. 



OF THE BANNER. 183 

The eloquence of St. Bernard was every where 
triumphant. France and Germany Hstened in rapture 
to his sermons : England* yielded to his epistles : 
Europe again drew the sword, and devoted herself to 
God, vowing to crush his enemies.f Moreover the 
faults and precipitancy of the former expedition were 
prudently avoided in this : — the counsels of the 
Preacher, as well as his declamations, were duly re- 
garded. J Visions and miracles, also, not a few,§ 
sanctioned the zeal with which the preacher had in- 
spired princes and knights. Even to think ill success 
possible was an impiety. — Heaven audibly blessed the 
enterprise, and assured a prosperous issue !|| — Luck- 
less confidence ! the intentions of heaven in this, as in 
so many other instances, had been utterly misinter- 
preted. Disaster attended the expedition throughout 

* The Epistle just quoted, was addressed to the English Barons, 
and the abbot does not omit the blandishments that might conciliate 
the parties. Et quia terra vestra foecunda est viroruni fortium, et 
militari juventute referta ; decet vos inter primos, et cum primis, ad 
sanctum opus accedere, et armatos ascendere ad serviendum Deo 
viventi. 

t The apologist of St. Bernard may allege that he acted on this 
occasion in obedience to the sovereign Pontiff, Eugenius III., in writ- 
ing to whom, on the subject, he says — De cetero mandastis, et obe- 
divi. Yet even this same pope was his creature : he goes on to 
declare the success of his labours. — Et foecundavit obedientiam prae- 
cipientis auctoritas. Siquidem annunciavi et locutus sum, muUiplicati 
sunt super numerum. Vacuantur urbes et castella, et peene jam non 
inveniunt quem apprehendant septem mulieres virum unum, adeo 
ubique viduee vivis remanent viris. — Ep. 247. 

. I Beside other instances of prudence, St. Bernard gave proof of 
his good sense in utterly declining the honour of leading in person 
the Crusade. His fanaticism savoured far more of the cell and the 
pulpit, than of the field. — duomodo videlicet in Carnotensi conventu 
(quonam judicio satis miror) me quasi in ducem et principem militiae 
elegerunt: certum sit vobis nee consihi mei, nee voluntatis meas 
fuisse vel esse. . . . Glnis sum ego, &c. — Ep. 256. 

§ . . . . nimirum, says the Saint's Notary, cum aliquando vigenti, 
seu etiam plures abincommodisvariis sanarentur, nee facile ab hujus- 
modi dies ulla vacaret, 

II Fanatics may safely enough perform miracles — among their 
followers ; but they commit a fatal blunder when they turn prophets. 
It was here that St. Bernard made shipwreck, and on the very same 
rock his imitators in every age have spht. The infatuations of the 
present day are meeting a like fate. 



184 FANATICISM 

its course, and a failure in all its objects disgraced its 
conclusion. But it is unjust, say some of the contem- 
porary religious historians, to affirm that St. Bernard's 
Crusade, though calamitous to the eye of sense, pro- 
duced no fruits, such as might be held to redeem the 
saint's reputation ; — for how many thousand soldiers 
of the cross did it send with a prosperous gale to 
heaven, to claim the promised rewards of martyr- 
dom !* 

This ingenious solution of the perplexing event did 
not satisfy St. Bernard himself. After declaring with 
a piety we should admire, that he would rather him- 
self sustain in silent patience the reproaches of the 
profane, than that the glory of God should be assailed, 
and would think himself happy to serve as " the shield 
of God," receiving in his person every shaft of the 
adversary ; he labours to find cases paralled to his own 
among the histories of the Old Testament : — he ob- 
fiquely refers to the miracles wrought by him in attes- 
tation of the Predication of the Cross ; and then, as the 
last and best recourse, alleges the inscrutable profundity 
of the Divine Providence, which, as he scruples not to 
affirm, often leads men on only to disappoint and 
thwart them ; and commands that to be done which it 
intends to frustrate ! f Alas how much, even by the 

* Nee tamen ex ilia profectione Orientalis Ecclesia liberari, sed 
ccfilestis meruit impleri et lajtari. And was not the lot of those who 
survived and returned to sin, more lamentable than that of those qui 
in fruclibus pcenitentiae purgatas variis tribulationibus Christo animas 
reddiderunt? — Vita. S. Bern. 1. iii. c. 4. If the Crusade effected no 
visible good, yet did it secure the salvation of a multitude of souls, 
says the Abbot Otho ; while another writer assures us, on infallible 
testimony, that a multitude of the fallen angels were restored on the 
occasion ! 

t See Epistle 288, and especially the Apology he addressed to the 
Pope, De Consideratione, 1. ii. c. 1. Scorners asked for evidence that 
the Crusade was from God. — Non est quod ad ista ipse respondeam, 
parcendum verecundice mete.. Responde tu pro me et pro te ipso, 
secundem ea quae audisti et vidisti ; aut eerie secundum quod tibi 
inspiraverit Deust .... Eisi necesse sit unum fieri e duobus, 
malo in nos murmur hQminum, qukm in Deum esse, Bonum mihij 
si dignetur me uti pro clypeo. 



OF THE BANNER. 185 

religious is the Divine Providence outraged, and the 
Divine attributes vihtied ! Every thing is understood 
sooner than the simplest principles of morality and 
religion. We passionately plunge into enterprises 
that are wholly unjustifiable or absurd — enterprises 
clearly incompatible at once with the dictates of com- 
mon sense, and the precepts of the gospel. What 
may be wanting on the side of reason we largely sup- 
ply from the stock of faith : — texts and fervours fill 
out the bubble of our confidence. — But in due season 
the folly bursts : — natural causes produce natural 
effects : — the seed we had sown springs up in its proper 
kind. How reasonable then, and how becoming would 
it be to retract our presumption, and to confess our 
fault. Instead of admitting any such pious ingenu- 
ousness, we fretfully talk of the unfathomable depths 
and the inscrutable mysteries of the w^ays of God 1 
and sum up the matter perhaps, as does St. Bernard, 
with a grossly misapplied text — " Blessed is every one 
that is not offended in Him," — as much as to say, God's 
ways are such that it is a vast merit not to resent 
them !* 

Of the second crusade to the Holy Land the Abbot 
of Clairvaux was personally the author. Another far 
more murderous, and more fatally successful, may 
justly be attributed, thou.qjh indirectly, to his influence. 
About half a century after the death of their Founder, 
the Bernardins, with the zealous Arnold Amalric at 
their head, and too w^ell authorized by the language 
and. conduct of their spiritual father, charged them- 
selves with the business of assembling the catholic 
world for the extermination of the heretics of Lan 
guedoc. With how much of horrid glory these labours 
were crowned, the histories of the times attest. The 
Romanist of the present day confides in the truth of 
the miracles recorded to have been performed by St. 

* . . . . hoc abyssus tanta, ut videar mihi non immerito pronun- 
tiare beatum, qui non fuerit scandalizatus in eo. — De Consid. 1. 2, c. L 

17* 



186 FANATICISM 

Bernard ; — indeed he cannot question them without 
discarding at the same time the whole of that evidence 
upon which his church rests her pretensions as the 
perpetual organ of Christ on earth. — But now it was 
on the credit of these very miracles (should we not 
father with Paul call them " lying wonders") — it was 
on this warranty expressly, that the preachers of the 
Albigensian Crusade incited that detestable expedition 
and justified the massacres and tortures that attended 
its course. With the maxims of the New Testament 
before him, is there then nothing that should stagger 
the faith of the Romanist in these blood-stained prodi- 
gies? If the direct and immediate use to which they 
were applied was carnage, rape, and unutterable fero- 
cities ; — if the clew of miracle runs throughout the 
story of abominable murder, shall a man who owns 
common powers of reason and conscience, swallow, 
with a blind voraciousness, at once the wonders and 
the murders ; or shall he do so, and claim to be any 
longer respected among Men and Christians ?* 

*An inconsistency not easy to adjust, belongs to St. Bernard's 
statements of the duty of the Church towards heretics. In some 
places he seems to disallow measures of violence ; while in others 
he plainly recommends the use of force. These two points at least 
are pretty certain ; 1st. That whatever he might say or sanction in 
compliance with the practices of the age, or in submission to 
authority, his personal or original dispositions were not of a ferocious 
kind ; but the reverse : and 2d. That whatever his personal dis- 
positions might be, he had become so thoroughly the slave of the 
Bomish despotism, that he held himself ready to promote whatever 
it approved and enjoined. So it is commonly that men of mild 
tempers are employed by the arrogant and the tyrannous as their 
fittest tools in giving effect to oppressive or sanguinary acts. In 
commenting upon Canticles ii. 15. " Take us the foxes, the little 
foxes, that spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes :" this 
Father observes, that the little foxes are insidious heresies, or rather 
the heretics themselves, and adds, Capiantur, dico, non armis, sed 
argumentis, quibus refellantur erroreseorum: ipsi vero, si fieri potest 
reconciUentur Calholicae ; — this is all very well : — the Church says, 
Capite eas nobis, catch them for us. Yet his doctrine in other 
places is of a different sort. With a slippery ambiguity of phrases, 
he gives room for the use of the most extreme means — approves the 
zeal of those who, in tumultuous fury had fallen upon heretics ; 
though he will not advise the deed ; — factum non suademus ; — but 
concludes that the sword is to be employed against those who persist 



OF THE BANNER. 187 

The fanaticism of religious war has seldom if ever 
been graced and recommended more remarkably than 
in the instance of the canonized hero of France, 
whose disasters and death may be said to have 
brought the crusading enterprise to a close ; — for that 
which the magnanimous Godfrey began, the saint-like 
Louis concluded. — The extant effigies of this good 
and valiant prince so well correspond with his re- 
corded actions that we cannot but look upon them 
as authentic* What mildness and dignity — goodness, 
humiHty, and yet fire and strength beam from the 
countenance ! It is a face which for suavity might 
belong to the most refined ages ; — a face shining with 
a religious elevation seldom indeed exhibited in the 
series of royal portraits. And such in truth was 
Louis IX. Disinterested to a fault in his conduct 
toward neighbouring powers ; — a peace-maker, and 
an arbitrator inflexibly just. Industrious in the dis- 
charge of public business, lenient and moderate in 
exacting dues, accessible and gracious to the poor : — 
firm toward the proud and powerful. Irreproachable 
in private life- — temperate and chaste. And withal, a 
warrior of no mean reputation — justly admired as 

in propagating their errors. — In Cantica, Serm. 66, But in an 
epistle to Hildefond, count of Toulouse, whom he accuses of favour- 
ing the heretics of his states, all the truculent rancour of the genuine 
churchman flows forth ; and in addressing the clergy of the province 
after his return, he seems quite to pant from the labours of extermi- 
nation ; and thus concludes his advices. — Deprehensi sunt lupi . . , 
deprehensi, sed non comprehensi. Propterea dilectissimi, persequimini 
et comprehendite eos : et nolite desistere, donee penitus depereant, 
et difTugiant de cunctis finibus vestris, quia non est tutum dormire 
vicinis serpentibus. — Ep. 242 ad Tolosanos, post reditum suum. 
Such are the strains of ecclesiastics, even some of the best of them, 
when irritated by opposition. The reader will not fail to notice the 
indulgent distinction which the good abbot observes between wolves 
and foxes. In the sense of Bishop Fouquet, the men, women, and 
children of a city belonged indiscriminately to the former class, if 
heresy was harboured at all among them. 

* Several portraits of St. Louis, and some of them well executed, 
are extant (or were so before the revolution) in the Churches dedica- 
ted to him, as well as in MSS. These are to be seen in Montfau- 
con's Antiquities of France. 



188 FANATICISM 

Well on account of his personal valour, as of his con- 
duct in the field : — -chivalrous in the best sense of the 
term ; and pious in a sense at which the severity of 
modern notions must not cavil.* 

What then does our hero want — unless it be that 
integrity and vigourof reason of which the superstition 
of his age had cashiered him ? If one might bring 
St. Louis into parallel with the statesmen and war- 
riors of classical history — an Epaminondas or Timo- 
leon, a Scipio or a Marius, though he claims over 
them the advantage of some higher sentiments and 
purer morals, he must yield to them all the preroga- 
tives of that erect position of the soul which belonged 
to them (although superstitious in their way) as exempt 
from the humiliation inflicted by sacerdotal despotism. 
— The Grecian and Roman public worship stood 
subservient to the civil and military powers of the 
state ; while that of the Christian nations (of the mid- 
dle ages) not merely usurped every kind of influence, 
but with the arrogance fitting infinite pretensions, trod 
the very souls of men in the dust. Strong emotions 
of shame and indignation spring up in the mind — 
shame for the degradations of humanity, shame for 
the abused religion of Christ, when one suddenly 
turns from the sculptures that have brought down 
to our times the forms of the Grecian chiefs, and 
inspects the mosaics, the parchments, the painted 
windows, and the bas-reliefs, in which the magnani- 
mous Louis is shewn, stripped to the waist like a vag- 
abond thief, and patiently receiving from the hands of 
emasculate monks the discipline of the whip ! Or 
shall we contemplate the monarch of France — not 
only king, but soldier and statesman, followed by the 
bevy of his court, and a swarm of ecclesiastics, on the 
road before Sens, pacing the rugged ground barefoot, 

* Louis IX. succeeded his father in 1226, and was only in his 
fourteenth year, and subject to the queen mother, when he acted his- 
part in the Abominable conduct of the Church and Court towards 
Raymond VII. 



OF THE BANNER. 189 

on his way to meet — was it some delegate from the 
upper world — some minister of heaven before whom 
mortaHty must tremble, and the pride of kings fall 
in the dust ; — No — nothing but a relic, and this 
relic, not a relic; but the palpable work of monkish 
knavery.* 

Far from being a farcical or a politic compliance 
with the usages of the times, these acts of devotion 
were, on the part of Louis IX. unquestionably the 
result of his sincere and profound convictions. So 
likewise were his Crusades ; — the infatuation had 
thoroughly worked itself into his soul ; and every part 
of his conduct in the two disastrous expeditions — the 
one to Egypt and Syria, and the other to the African 
coast, exhibits the resolution, the consistency, and the 
greatness which distinguish vigorous minds when 
ruled by some single and paramount motive. This 
motive was, in many important respectSj unlike that 
which had impelled the Crusaders of the preceding 
century. The course of events had insensibly given 
to the oriental war another and a new character. 
With Godfrey, Robert of Normandy, and Tancred, 
the project was aggressive and spontaneous ; but after 
the Christian powers had made a permanent lodge- 
ment in Palestine, and naturalized themselves there, it 
became at once a duty of humanity, and a demand of 
public justice to defend the oriental colonies. Accord- 
ingly we now hear much more than at first, of the 
obligation to protect and to rescue the afflicted Chris- 
tians of the eastern church ; and it is this plea, rather 
than any motive of a fanatical or superstitious kind, 

* St. Louis, receiving the grace of penitence, is one of the subjects 
represented upon the windows of the vestry of St. Denis. Baldwin 
II. Latin emperor of Constantinople, in ackfiowledgment of the 
French king's bounties to the Christians of Palestine, sent him — the 
crown of thorns, which had been preserved in the imperial palace; 
but which the Venetians had lately held as a pledge for a loan. Louis 
discharged this debt, and received the sacred treasure. Single thorns 
broken off, were forthwith conferred upon several of the Churches 
and Abbeys of Fiance. 



190 FANATICISIM 

which was employed in the time of St. Louis to 
quicken the zeal of princes and adventurers.* 

In this light mainly did the French monarch regard 
the expeditions he conducted ; and it would be harsh 
indeed to affirm that those attempts might not appear 
to him in the fullest degree justifiable. And moreover, 
as the final motive had gradually become of a diflf'erent 
sort, so were the immediate excitements very unlike 
that which impelled the earlier invasions of the Holy 
Land. Then the torrent of war poured on directly to 
the revered centre of devotion. Although the route 
was unavoidably circuitous, still the line of movement 
tended always towards the sacred sites. The enthu- 
siasm of the enterprise mounted up therefore at every 
step of the march ; — nor did it abate until the soldiers 
of the cross had waded through rivers of Moslem blood 
in their way to the foot of Zion. 

But how much must the crusading zeal have sunk, 
and how much must it have mingled with secondary 
motives, when, instead of rushing on to the endeared 
and outraged city of human redemption, the crusards 
had first to assail the enemy in some quarter far remote 
from those spots ; for instance, along the banks of the 
Nile, or upon the burning sands of the Numidian coast, 
and fifteen hundred miles from the Holy City ! and as 
the impulse was by this means slackened, so probably 
room might be left for emotions of a better and a 
calmer sort. This was certainly the case with the 
French king. The superstitions of his times aparf, 
for which St. Louis was not responsible, his last hours 
exhibited whatever is becoming to the faith and temper 
of a dying Christian. 

As well Royal pride (if any sparks of such a feeling 
lingered in the bosom of this religious king) as the 

* We must revert to St. Bernard to do him the justice of saying, 
that, even a full century before the time of Louis IX. the plea of 
relieving and defending the Syrian Christians was employed as an 
auxiliary motive for undertaking the Crusade. Tempus et opus est 
existimo ambos educi in defensionem orientalis ecclesiss. 



OF THE BANNER. 19X 

ordinary excitements attendant upon a martial enter- 
prise, were fallen at that moment to the very lowest 
ebb. After winning some laurels of little value, the 
crusaders, at the season of insufferable heat, had en- 
camped upon the desert within sight of Tunis. But 
they had scarcely began to rest when pestilence broke 
out, and threatened to leave the residue of the army 
at the mercy of an infuriated foe. One of the first 
to fall was the son of the king — designated from his 
cradle to sorrow.*' Over his grave Louis himself 
sickened, and his frame, already wasted by a long 
course of austerities, at once gave way. Earthly hopes 
of every kind were weaning fast. — This second expe- 
dition, which should have redeemed the calamities of 
the first, it w^as now certain must be frustrated : — even 
whether space would be secured for giving Christian 
rites to the dying and the dead was doubtful : — whether 
a wreck of the flower of France would return to tell 
the tale of disaster seemed uncertain. Horrors thick- 
ened on every side ; and worse horrors impended. But 
though the earth itself should remove, and the founda- 
tions of things sublunary be broken, the dying monarch 
admitted no despondency: — the suiTounding gloom 
did not darken his soul. His energies as a man, his 
solicitudes as a king, his affection as a father, his zeal 
as a Christian, were not relaxed. Whatever the exi- 
gency of the time demanded to be done or arranged, 
he completed. His last acts as a sovereign were 
directed to the long desired object of reconciling the 
Latin and Greek Churches ; and having surrendered 
his kingdom, with wise and pious advices, to his son, 
he closed his eyes on worldly pomps, in calm, if not 
assured hope of entering, in due season, upon the joys 
of eternity. — 

— So is the grace of heaven wont to relieve the 
darkest histories of the follies and crimes of nations, 
by unsullied instances of piety and goodness. 

* John Tristan, born in Egypt at the time of his father's captivity. 



193 FANATICISM 

The rule of analogy leads on by natural transitions 
from scene to scene, making it necessary to traverse 
the order of Time. Commencing with the most com- 
plete instance of spontaneous or aggressive religious 
warfare, we have passed to those enterprises that were 
of a mixed kind, and have followed them until they 
assumed a defensive aspect. We start anew then 
from this point to contemplate the memorable example 
of a nation gathering its strength to a convulsive and 
frenzied effort for the rescue of its ancient and im- 
passioned religious hopes. 

As the terrible catastrophe of the Jew^ish city and 
people is fraught with horrors beyond perhaps any 
other scene of history, so did the sentiments then called 
up — the fanaticism of national pride, reach a height to 
which no parallel can be found. An examination of 
the moral condition and political circumstances of the 
Jewish community at the time is quite necessary if we 
would either read the dismal story with intelligence, 
or afford to the infatuated sufferers that measure of 
sympathy which they may well claim. And with this 
view it is moreover indispensable that we should dis- 
miss, for a moment at least, those special feelings with 
which, as Christians, w^e are accustomed to contem- 
plate the vengeance that overtook the betrayers and 
murderers of the Lord, and the obdurate enemies of 
his gospel. 

Yet is it difficult to disengage the mind from those 
impressions which give to the events of the Jewish 
war their supernatural character ; in truth this stamp 
of extraordinary interposition is imprinted upon every 
transaction of the time : — the rebellion itself — the 
madness, of the endeavour, on the part of so feeble a 
state, to resist the undivided force of the Roman 
Empire — the pertinacity of the resistance — the frenzy 
of the intestine feuds, and the delirium of the last 
struggle, bear the marks of a judicial abandonment: 
while, on the other side, the singular conduct of the 
Roman authorities, as well as many incidents of the 



OF THE BANNER. 193 

siege and capture of the city, exliibit visibly — must 
we not admit, the irresistible control of a hand from 
above. Looking upon the city, overshadowed by the 
bursting cloud of fate, the seals of Divine wrath are 
seen upon its palaces ; and one believes to hear the 
sullen thunder that announces the departure of Jeho- 
vah from the ancient place of His rest. — Or turning 
toward the encircling armies, the Roman banners 
appear to bear an inscription, bespeaking Titus as the 
minister of the predicted wrath of God. 

It need not be feared lest, while affording in this 
instance a due commiseration to an unhappy people, 
we should make ourselves sharers in their peculiar 
guilt. Every reader of Jewish history learns to dis- 
tinguish between the ordinary and the theological 
aspect of the calamities that have followed the race. 
Who that has the heart of a man hesitates to take 
part with the persecuted Israelite against the inquisi- 
tor ; or who would stand aloof a moment, if an occa- 
sion offered for defending him from the wanton 
ferocity of the feudal baron or the Romish priest? 
And yet these very sufferings, and all the miseries 
that have pursued the people in the lands of their 
dispersion, are as truly a retribution from heaven of 
their national unbelief, as were the famine, the pesti- 
lence, and the carnage that attended the overthrow of 
Jerusalem. If it be lawful to think and speak with 
indulgence and compassion of the Jevv^ of the tenth 
and fifteenth centuries, it is so to feel the same in 
regard to his ancestor of the age of Vespasian. Do 
we want a sanction for sentiments of this kind ? — we 
receive one that is absolute and conclusive from the 
example of the Messiah himself, who when, with 
prophetic eye, he beheld the city as if then torrents of 
blood were pouring down from its gates, " wept over 
it;" and without forgetting its crimes, lamented its 
miseries. a^\ 

The fanaticism which came to its paroxysm in the 
Jewish war demands to be traced in its^row 

18 II V 




194 FANATICISM 

watched in its several stages of enhancement. To do 
so is nothing more than an act of justice toward the 
fallen people ; and moreover the subject has (as we 
shall afterwards see) a special and very important 
bearing upon a question which arises concerning the 
influence of the Mosaic and prophetic dispensation in 
forming the national character. 

After a schooling of almost a thousand years (from 
Moses to Daniel) a discipline in which was mingled 
every means of grace and judgment ; yet attended 
with only partial or temporary success, the Hebrew 
people had at length firmly embraced — never again i6 
lose it, that first lesson of theology which it was the 
main design of the Mosaic institution to convey. 
Ever propense to the degrading service of fictitious 
divinities while secluded among the glens of Palestine, 
and while their obedience might have ensured their 
peace, the nation, when at last transported to the very 
Pandemonium of idol-worship, sickened, as in a mo- 
ment, of its inveterate error, and with a sudden and 
final revulsion of heart, learned to loathe the very 
names of the gods of the nations. Singular revolution ! 
— the Jew in Babylon, while losing the ancient and 
sacred language of his religion — the language of the 
law and the prophets, and while acquiring in its stead 
a dialect which, according to the ordinary course of 
human affairs, should have infected him more deeply 
than ever with polytheistic notions, learned the true 
sense of Moses and the prophets ! Thus, in forgetting 
the letter of Scripture, he got possession of its spirit. 

Become at length devoted and sincere worshippers 
of the God of their fathers, and punctilious observers 
of the ancient ritual, and now restored to their city 
and land, it seemed as if the Jewish people was setting 
out under auspicious circumstances to run that course 
of national obedience and consequent prosperity which 
should render it a visible and perpetual witness in th^ 
eye of all nations for a pure theology. Now were 
bright predictions to be fulfilled, and now was the 



OF THE BANNER. 195 

world to admire a people loved of God — a royal 
priesthood — an exemplar of wisdom, virtue^ and 
felicit)^ 1 

So it might have been thought ; but the hour was 
come for an occult law of retribution — a latent prin- 
ciple of the spiritual economy, to take effect upon the 
chosen race. Those who, age after age, had con- 
temned the Divine promise of temporal prosperity as 
the rew^ard of religious obedience, and had so long 
and so perversely "sinned against their own mercies," 
were now to be dealt with on a different rule — a rule 
which drew its reason from higher purposes than 
heretofore had been regarded. The Jewish people 
were indeed at this time willing to maintain the 
honours of Jehovah ; and they were allowed to do so ; 
' — ^yet it must be under the condition (for the most 
part) of tribulation and oppression. The economy of 
earthly benefits which had remained in force under 
Solomon, Asa, Jehosaphat, Hezekiah, was superannu- 
ated, and was displaced by an economy of motives of 
a more elevated order. — Antiochus is suffered to try 
the faith and constancy of those whose faithless fathers 
had been given into the hand of Assyrian and Baby- 
Jonian oppressors. 

This change in the character of events cannot be 
contemplated without perceiving that the dawn of a 
day of immortal hope was just then breaking upon the 
mountains of Judaea ; a procursive trial was therefore 
to be made of that higher order of things, and of that 
more perfect discipline wherein the welfare of the soul 
was to take precedence of that of the body — the spirit- 
ual to be preferred to the natural — and Eternity to be 
jnore accounted of than Time. 

A marked, and a correspondent change took place 
at this era of Jewish history in the sentiments of the 
people, and especially of their chiefs. Instead of talk- 
ing exclusively (as heretofore) of immediate and polit- 
ical deliverance, and of national aggrandizement, 
they mixed with such secular hopes, views of a more 



196 FANATICISM 

refined and prospective sort. They had gradually 
learned to look through the dim shadows of death for 
the rewards of piety ; — they turned their eye from the 
hills of Palestine, and with a steady courage endured 
torments and met death — that they might obtain " a 
better resurrection"* Not a less remarkable revolu- 
tion of feeling was this than that of their final abandon- 
ment of polytheism. — It was in truth a progression of 
the national mind ; — and a progression that involved 
the remote and universal destinies of the human fam- 
ily ; for in the history and fate of the race of Abraham 
the history and fate of all nations are bound up. 

The acquisition of the belief of a future life, and of 
its infinite rewards and punishments as a popular 
dogma, deepened and expanded to an immense extent 
the range of the religious emotions. The Jew of the 
Asmonean era had become capable of sustaining a 
part of spiritual heroism such as his ancestors of the 
time of David had never thought of. The " mighty 
threes"! of that pristine age were indeed valiant as 
w^arriors, and faithful too as champions of the God of 
Israel ; but Judas Maccabeus, his companions and his 
successors, drew the motives of their constancy from 
considerations far more recondite and potent ; and 
they fought and bled not merely as soldiers, but as 
martyrs."J 

* 2 Mac. vii. f 2 Sam. xxiii. 

I The spirit of the Jews of this period, and their religious opinions, 
are to be learned much better from the two books of Maccabees, than 
from the polite pages of Joscphus, who takes vast pains so to dress up 
the homely piety of his ancestors in hellenic phrases, as should render 
it offensive to his Gentile friends and readers. The simple language 
of faith and pious hope — hope of a better life, the learned author of 
the Antiquities translates into the dialect of Grrecian philosophy and 
Grecian heroism. This is especially to be observed in the speeches 
of the Jewish worthies. With no other materials than what he 
obtained from the books of the Maccabees, he expands and embel- 
lishes the simple, affecting, and vigorous expressions of devout 
patriotism which he there found, and is fain to present his readers 
with rhetorical harangues, after the fashion of Thucydides. The 
same intention is copiously displayed in the Book of the Government 
of Reason. 



or THE BANNER. 197 

It was natural, as this expansion of the religious 
notions of the Jews took place under circumstances of 
extreme national trouble, and reached its maturity 
while they were struggling for their political and reli- 
gious existence, that it should bring with it those tu- 
Hiultuary feelings which are provoked, as well in vulgar 
as in noble minds, by witnessing wanton violations of 
sacred things, persons, places, and usages. During 
the three centuries preceding the destruction of Jeru- 
salem, and while, with transient intermissions, this 
nation of true worshippers was contending against the 
Macedonian, Syrian, and Egyptian kings, or fretting 
under the pressure of the Roman power, there was 
going on a slow accumulation upon the national mind 
of those emotions — intense, profound, and ungoverna- 
ble, which, after many a portentous heave, at last 
burst forth and spread an universal ruin. 

But this progression of religious feeling passed be- 
yond its sound state ; — the ripening reached corruption. 
The people, while they firmly retained whatever was 
acrimonious in their national ideas, and whatever 
might engender spiritual arrogance, cast off those purer 
and nobler sentiments that had once imparted to their 
character the dignity and .moderation of true virtue. 
Thus, although their external allegiance to Jehovah, 
the God of Abraham, remained irritably stedfast, and 
although they haughtily challenged every point of hon- 
our that belonged to them as the only depositaries in 
the world of an unsullied religion, they renounced 
those expansive sentiments, so frequently mtroduced 
by the prophets, which have a benign aspect toward 
all the families of mankind.* 

* Josephus, who never forgets his solicitude to propitiate the 
Koman government, and to conciliate Gentile readers, takes pains to 
conceal that contempt which his countrymen indulged toward the 
polytheistic world. He even denies in a formal manner that the 
Jews allowed themselves to condemn or ridicule other modes of 
worship. " For my own part, I do not bring into question other 
men's religious practices. In truth, it belongs to us as a people to 
preserve our own usages : — not to inculpate those of other nations. 

18* 



198 FANATICISM 

Nor was this all — though indeed it might have been 
enough ; for the zealot nation, scrupulous practitioners 
of whatever in the Mosaic institutions tended to insu- 
late them from the community of mankind, loaded 
those institutions with offensive exaggerations ; and 
moreover to a great extent superseded the genuine 
precepts of the Pentateuch by a comment and tradi- 
tion abominably perverse. So it was that the whole 
repulsive rigidity of sectarism wrapped them about as 
a garment ; while they held few or none of the com- 
pensations of a purer morality. At once, and in an 
extreme degree, sanctimonious and debauched, the 
Jews (of the Christian era) were in that very state 
which, more than any other, is liable to pass into vio- 
lence. Who so furious and rabid as the scrupulous, 
immoral religionist, heated by a sense of injury and 
insult ? 

One element more, and only one remained to fit the 
Jewish people for the terrible part they were to act in 
bringing on the catastrophe of the state. This was 
the spirit of faction, and this they had admitted to the 
full. The rise of the rancour of religious strife is a 
subject too extensive to be entered upon in this place ; 
but it is one that might well claim deliberate attention ; 
'and the more so, because these virulent and peculiar 
feelings which seemed for the first time to break out 
upon human nature about a century before the birth of 
Christ, have ever since (and to the present day) kept 
their place, and have had a great share in determining 
the course of events throughout Christendom. At 
present it may suffice to advert to the fact that, at the 
time we are speaking of, the bosom of almost every 

And our legislator expressly forbade our either ridiculing or defaming 
those whom the nations around us regard as divinities." — Against 
Apion, b. 2. This was a bold assertion, and one which his adversary 
might have easily refuted. Are not the gods of the heathen con- 
temptuously handled by David and the prophets ? and are not the 
worshippers of stocks and stones declared to be stupid and absurd ? 
This scorn ofidols and idolaters had increased, not diminished, among 
the Jews. 



OP THE BANNER. 199 

Jew beside the common malevolence or murky pride 
which then characterized the race, harboured a still 
more definite and vivid animosity against some rival 
party : each mind, while revolving around the one 
gloomy centre of national feeling, revolved also about 
the centre of its sect. Unhappy people, thus to exist 
and move in an element of hatred, at once diffusive 
and condensed.* 

Such w^ere the pungent sentiments which prepared 
the Jewish people for the horrors of its catastrophe. 
Then there was added to these feelings a specific and 
extraordinary excitement, which gave intensity to 
every passion of a political or religious sort. — This 
was the fond, and now desperate expectation, of the ap- 
pearance of their Messiah. 

The two principles, namely, the belief a future life, 
with its rewards and punishments, and the hope of na- 
tional deliverance and universal empire under the con- 
duct of the promised Son of David, had kept pace one 
with the other and both had gradually become more 
and more distinct, had mingled more in the popular sen- 
timents, and had settled into familiar forms of expres- 
sion, so that what, in the remoter times was a mystery, 
or an esoteric doctrine — conserved by seers, and hid- 
den under symbols, had now reached the populace, 
and was in every mouth. The hope of redemption 
under the Messiah, which existed in a warm and natu- 
ral state at the time of the advent of Him who was 
indeed the Lord's Christ, underwent a pernicious rev- 
ulsion from the disappointment that ensued when the 
Son of Mary was rejected. Pious desire turned then 
into a wild and frenzied wistfulness — the prey of every 

*When he refers to the factions that distracted the Jewish 
people, Josephus employs the strongest terms which language affords. 
— "One might justly say sedition grew upon sedition ; or the state 
might be compared to a rabid beast that, in want of sustenance from 
without, rends and devours its own entrails." Ti nikiKoZrov, ex- 
claims the historian, a rXri/^oveTTarT] TroXiq, 're7ro\6eig vtto ^Vayr 
almy oi a-ov ret f'jtt^vA<<* ^wO'jj Trepixcc^apouvrei e/V^A^ov. 



900 FANATICISM 

delusion. The articulate language of prophecy — the 
awakened expectations of mankind at large, and the 
portents of the times all concurred to fix, beyond mis- 
take, the then passing years as the destined era of 
deliverance. — Scripture and the comments upon it, 
marked almost the moment. — while the events of the 
age, the balancings of human affairs, declared the times 
to be fulfilled. Yet these years hastened on, and no 
Saviour — no Saviour from Gentile tyranny, appeared. 
In the interim the sacrilegious foreign power ad- 
vanced every day nearer and nearer to the sanc- 
tuary of God. Unutterable profanations had been 
threatened, and even perpetrated : — but a little more, 
and the very heart of the Israelitish polity must receive 
a fatal wound. Yet the heavens were not rent — 
Jehovah and his Anointed stood afar from the help of 
his inheritance. — Must it not be to try the constancy 
of Israel to the extremest point, and to enhance the 
arrogance of the oppressor to the highest degree ; so 
that, on the one side, the coming deliverance should be 
the more welcome, and on the other, the vengeance so 
much the more signal? Doubtless God would, at, the 
last, visit his chosen people. Suddenly, and in the 
blaze of his power would he descend to his temple, 
unfurl on the heights of Zion the Banner of his love 
and wrath ; and thence advancing, followed by the 
tribes of Jacob, would go forth — King of kings, to 
trample on the necks of all mankind.* 

*Josephus, from obvious motives of policy, draws a veil over the 
subject of the hope his countrymen entertained of a Prince and 
Dehverer who should rule the world. To have given its just promi- 
nence to this theme would have been highly dangerous both to him- 
self and to his people. His allusion to it is brief and cautious, and is 
accompanied by a comment designed to exclude all suspicion. " But 
what chiefly incited the Jews to the war was an ambiguous prediction 
pj^pjjtfjtws afA-Cpl^oXoq^ found in their sacred writings, the purport of 
which was, that, about that time some one of their country should 
rule the world. This prediction they appropriated to their own race; 
and many of their Rabbis were led astray by the interpretation. In 
truth the oracle pointed to Vespasian, who was declared Emperor in 
J^udsea."— JDe Bella Jud. L. VI. c. 12. If this were indeed the " chief 



OF THE BANNER. 201 

Fond, and yet not — as it seemed, irrational hope ! 
Proof could be advanced in support of every portion 
of this vast conception. No expectation comparable 
to this — none so great, so bright and at the same time 
so distinct, had ever been indulged by any people : no 
analogous instance stands upon the records of history : 
an ambition so dazzling v^as known only to the Jew. 
and this hope had been rendered the more vigorous by 
compression ; — the weight of all visible probabilities 
weighed it down ; — nothing less than the Power of 
Rome, with all her legions, bore upon the expectation 
of Israel — and yet did not crush it. Judsea against 
the world : no, rather God and his Messiah, against 
the potsherds of the earth ! 

Often must it have happened to the haughty Jew 
to gaze, in sinister contempt, upon the military pomp 
of the Empire (at Rome or in the provinces) and to 
meditate the hour when all this splendour should fade 
before the throne and car of the Messiah. — Yes, many 
a time had he brooded upon the thought that Rome 
and her pride should ere long lie in the dust at the 
gate of Jerusalem ; and suppliants from the capitol 
kiss the feet of the princes of Zion 1 

How then shall we measure the desperation or the 
rage when a hope so ancient and so vast was drawing 
to its crisis ? At length a terrible surmise stole upon 
the dismayed heart of the people ; — that the very 
foundations of their belief were illusory ! The dark 
consummation which this wretched people, now 
hemmed in by an irresistible enemy, had to fear, was 
not the famine and thirst of a seige, or massacres within 
their walls, or the carnage to be expected from the 
irritated legions ; — it was not the overthrow of their 
city, the ruin of their temple, the devastation of their 

Jncentive" of the war, it doubtless held a much larger place in the 
sentiments and harangues of the people and their leaders than appears 
from the narrative of the historian. — Josephus knew more of this 
*' ambiguous prophecy," and of its mighty influence over the national 
feeUngs, than he thought it prudent to avow. 



202 FANATICISM 

land, the extinction of the race; — a worse catastrophe 
was before them : nothing less than a plunge into the 
bottomless gulf of atheism : — it was the death of a na- 
tion's soul that was at hand. If indeed at the last the 
promise should fail, if the Gentile sword should be 
suffered to cut off root and branch of the people of 
Abraham, what then were the Scriptures — what Moses 
and the Prophets — what Sinai and its thunders — what 
the long series of signs and miracles which had con- 
veyed to this people, and to this alone, a genuine faith 
in one God ? By a false concatenation of inferences, 
the religious convictions of the Jewish people, the 
whole of their belief of things unseen, was made to 
hang upon the event of the siege of the holy city. Let 
but the abominable signals of the Roman legions be 
planted upon the walls of the temple, and then Israel, 
carrying with him all his hopes — the anticipated splen- 
dours of time, and the glories of eternity, must leap 
from the height into the shoreless abyss of despair ! 

Under the pressure of emotions so supernatural and 
extreme, if more could have been endured by man 
than was then suffered, or more effected than was 
performed, it had actually been sustained and done. 
The feeling of the people was far more profound than 
that it should measure itself against any pains or dan- 
gers mortality can undergo. The visible and sensible 
woe of the siege did but faintly symbolize the convul- 
sive anguish of every Jewish heart. It was as when 
a guilt-stricken wretch approaching his last hour, 
though torn by the pangs of death, forgets the wrench 
of bodily pain in the torment of the soul ;^ — the writh- 
ing of the limbs, the contortions of the features, the 
livid hue, the glare of the eye, the sighs, the groans, 
are imperfect expressions only of the misery and terror 
of the spirit. 

To attribute an absolute authenticity to the long 
and elaborate speeches which the Jewish historian 
puts into the mouth of the chiefs of the factions would 
be idle ; and especially so where, according to his 



OF THE BANNER. 203 

6wn account, all or most of those who were actually 
present on the occasion soon afterwards perished. 
Nevertheless there is a sense in which these harangues 
deserve attention ; for Josephus, familiarly acquainted 
as he was with the sentiments of his countrymen, and 
with their style of thinking, no doubt adhered to 
dramatic truth in composing these orations, and would 
assign to the speakers language proper to the character 
of the persons. Although graced with not a few 
Grecian turns, the matter of these compositions is un- 
questionably national. Nay, it may be granted as 
probable tiiat broken portions of an actual address, 
on some signal occasion, were reported, and had come 
to the knowledge of the historian. By the same rule 
it is acknowledged that while the speeches of Roman 
Generals and Senators, as given by Livy, are Livy's 
speeches, they may still be regarded, although fictiti- 
ous in a strict or historical sense, as authentic and 
characteristic examples of Roman feeling. 

With this caution in view, it is a matter of some 
curiosity to examine the harangues of those of the 
Jewish leaders who survived the destruction of the 
city, and whose fate it was to receive in their persons 
the last strokes of Roman vengeance. Supposing it 
to float somewhere between truth and fiction — ^true in 
elements — fictitious in form, the address of Eleazar, 
chief of the Assassins, to his companions, when shut 
up in Masada,^ and unable longer to hold out against 
the Romans, may be adduced as a highly characteristic 
exhibition of the ultimate, or fallen and melancholic 
stage of martial fanaticism. With the extinction of 
the specific hope whence it had sprung, the heat and 
vivacity of the feeling had passed away, leaving only 
its desperation : — the fury is gone, but not the folly. 

* A precipitous and strongly fortified height, overlooking the nof- 
thern extremity of the Dead Sea. The Maccabees first, and afterwards 
Herod, had constructed on this hill-top what was deemed an impreg- 
nable fortress. As such it had been always held by the latter in a 
state of readiness to serve him as a place of refuge in the event of a 
rebellion. 



204 FANATICISM 

The once boisterous passion assumes even something 
of the serenity of good sense ; but yet entirely wants 
the consistency of true wisdom. So terrible a commo- 
tion of the soul of a people could not instantly subside ; 
and a while after the roaring of the storm is hushed, 
the billows continue to fling their huge masses sullenly 
upon the shore. 

The secular hope of national deliverance and mili- 
tary glory was that which had inspired the constancy 
of the people up to the moment when they beheld 
their temple in flames ; but then, of necessity, their 
ill-placed confidence dissolved. — It was that very tem- 
ple which should have received the Messiah : — that 
building, as they firmly believed, no power in earth or 
heaven could overthrow ; for it was destined to endure 
to the consummation of all things. But the temple 
was now actually levelled to the ground : — the peo- 
ple's hope disappeared also, and with it, as we cannot 
doubt, the religious faith of multitudes of those who 
perished in the carnage that followed.— ^In that last 
hour of anguish did not many a warm Pharisaic heart 
become suddenly cold with Sadducean despair? — Yet 
others there were whose feelings underwent a revul- 
sion, and in whom when the worldly seduction had lost 
its power, the better religious sentiment would regain 
its influence. So (if we may regard as in any sense 
genuine the last and fatal discourse of Eleazar) was it 
with that desperate leader. 

"Such, brave comrades, such is our immemorial 
resolution, that to God alone — the true and righteous 
Lord of men, homage is to be rendered ; and that 
neither from the Romans, nor from any other earthly 
power, is servitude to be endured. The day is now 
come in which we are called upon to seal our profes- 
sion by our deeds ; — unless we be ourselves unwor- 
thy of that profession. And this is certain, that if the 
servitude we have in past times submitted to was 
grievous, what awaits us, should we fall alive into the 
hands of the Roman, will be aggravated by intolerable 



OP THE BANNER. 205 

torments. — Were not we (the Sicarii) the first to 
revolt ? — are we not also the last to resist ? I hold it 
then to be a special grace of Heaven, to us acorded, 
that we possess as we do at this time, the means of 
dying honourably and free, while others of our nation, 
betrayed by their fallacious hopes, enjoyed no such 
option. 

*' No one can now doubt that to-morrow's sun must 
see this fortress in the hands of the enemy. But there 
remains to us the undisputed choice of a noble death ; 
and a death in the arms of those most dear to us. — 
No, ardently as he desires to take us alive, he is as 
unable to deprive us of this choice, as we are to resist 
him in the field. Resist the Roman in the field ! no, 
this we should long ago, and from the first of our 
revolt have understood, when peradv^enture it might 
have availed us to know it, that the Divine irrevocable 
decree has sealed our destruction as a people. The 
Jewish race, once so dear to God, He has consigned 
to perdition. Do we want proof of the fact ; — let us 
look to the site of the sacred city, at this moment 
smoking in its ruins, and strewed with the bodies of 
thousands of the people. 

" And now, my companions, indulge not any such 
presumption as if we, who hitherto have escaped the 
common ruin, were not sharers in the common guilt ; 
and might yet evade the universal sentence that is to 
annihilate the race. Look about you, and see how 
God himself has been stripping us of the vain hope 
we had clung to. What avails us the possession of 
this inaccessible fortress? what the abundance of pro- 
visions, and our ample stock of weapons ? — God's out- 
stretched arm has rent from us our fond conceit of 
safety. Think you that the fiames yesterday, which 
at first bore upon the enemy, did of their own accord 
suddenly turn round upon our newly-raised defences ? 
No, this reverting fire was blown by Almighty wrath — 
the punishment of our presumption ; and we find that 

19 



206 FANATICISM 

the vengeance of God, provoked by our sins, is more 
inexorable than even the mahce of the Romans. 

"Already therefore doomed, as we are, by God — 
let us die : — die — our wives exempt from abuse — our 
children unknowing bondage ; and then, these deliv- 
ered by our hands, we shall have only to discharge, 
one for another, a generous office and mutually ensure 
the death and sepulture of freemen ? Our treasures we 
will consume. — How will the Roman vex to be de- 
frauded at once of our persons and of our wealth ; both 
of which he thinks his prey ! Yes, but we will leave 
him our stock of food — an evidence that we were not 
urged by famine, but that from the impulse of a steady 
purpose, we had preferred death to slavery." 

Thus, says the historian, spoke Eleazar.* But many 
of his auditors quavered. Some indeed met the ardour 
of their chief with a kindred resolution, and would at 
once have given it eifect. Others, held by the tender- 
ness of nature, and gazing upon their wives and chil- 
dren, doomed thus to die, burst into tears, and refused 
assent to the fatal resolution. The leader beheld with 
anxiety their trepidation, fearing lest it might shake 
even the more courageous, and disappoint his design. 
— As if inspired with high thoughts, his eyes fixed, and 
in energetic tones, he again addressed the crowd, bring- 
ing before them the brightness of immortality. 

" Was I deceived then in believing that the brave 
had rather die than live dishonoured 1 Comrades, do 
you fear to die even to escape evils worse than death? 
In an extremity like this ye should neither hesitate, 
nor want a prompter. But let me remind you of that 
which from childhood we have learned — which our 

* Tiie historian's method of expanding immensely his materials, is 
shewn by a comparison of the succinct speeches reported in the Book 
of Maccabees, with the elaborate orations that embellish his work. 
In the present instance a license of abridgment and compression is 
freely used, the result of which may perhaps be a nearer approach to 
historic truth. So long a discourse as that which Josephus attributes 
to Eleazar (occupying five folio pages) would certainly not have been 
uttered or listened to, under such circumstances. 



OF THE BANNER. 207 

fathers and the sacred writings teach, and which our 
ancestors have so often authenticated by their deeds 
— that it is lite, rather than death, which should be 
thought of as calamitous.* Death, is it not the Liber- 
ator of souls '? does it not dismiss them to the pure 
abodes where none of the ill chances of mortality can 
enter ? So long as we are bound to this mortal frame, 
and liable to the evils it inherits, our life is but a death. 
Oh unworthy alliance of the divine essence with a 
fabric that must die ! Organ of the soul's power and 
will, yet does the body weigh it down to earth, from 
which freed, it soars to its native region : — regains a 
blessed and unbounded liberty, and like God him- 
self, evades the sight of mortals. Yes, unseen does it 
enter the body ; and unseen depart — a pure and un- 
mingled essence ; — yet potent — the cause of life, and 
itself immortal. Witness the independence and ac- 
tivity of the soul in sleep, when discharged for a while 
from the warfare of flesh, it enjoys its proper delights, 
and taking the privilege of its affinity to God, freely 
pervades all places, and even penetrates futurity ! 

" With what reason then can we fear to die, who 
court the refreshment of sleep ? Preposterous surely 
for those to grudge themselves perpetual freedom, 
who prefer hberty to any other of the goods of life ! 
This readiness to put off mortality we, as Jews, ought 
especially to exhibit ; or if indeed we must go to learn 
such a lesson from strangers, let us look to those 
Indian sages who loathingly live a while to fulfil the 
purposes of nature, and hasten to die that they may 
shake off the ills of animal existence. None hinder 
them in their purpose ; none lament their exit ; but 

* If this speech be regarded as nothing more than the composition 
of Josephus, it will not the less serve to prove a fact, important in its 
bearings — That a distinct belief of immortality — a belief far more 
distinct than appears on the face of the canonical prophetic writings, 
had long been entertained among the Jews, and had constituted a 
main article of that body of tradition, which, rather than the Script- 
uras, governed the opinions, the sentiments, and the practices of the 
nation. 



208 FANATICISM 

rather account them happy, and commit to their hand 
epistles of love to their kindred in the skies. Gladly 
do they ascend the pyre where all the grossness of 
the body is to disappear. Shall we then — better 
taught as we are than they, be less prompt to urge 
our course to immortality ? This were indeed a 
shame. 

" But even if we had been taught to think the 
present life the chief good, and death the greatest 
evil, it would still be certain, that, placed as we are, 
we should manfully meet our fate ; since, as well the 
will of God, as the necessity of the moment, com- 
mands us to die. Believe it, countrymen, that long 
ago heaven sealed the fatal decree which none of the 
Jewish race can evade, and which consigns us — guilty 
as we have been, to utter extinction. Our nation has 
fallen, not by the power of Rome — not even by our 
errors in conducting the war ; — no, a stronger hand 
has crushed us — we perish beneath the stroke of the 
Almighty ! 

" Time would fail me if I were to recount the 
many signal instances in which, contrary to all proba- 
bility, and even against or beyond the intention of our 
enemies, we have fallen the victims of Divine ven- 
geance.— Or when any of our race has escaped 
immediate carnage, who would not deplore their lot 
as far more grievous ; who would not rather die than 
endure what such have suffered ? — Some, torn of the 
lash ; some, tormented with fire ; some, half eaten of 
beasts, and rescued, to be thrown to them alive for a 
second repast ! Or were they permitted to live ? yes, 
but only to be made the sport of their adversaries. 
How do those now desire to die who are yet compelled 
to breathe ! — 

" — Alas ! where now is that city of ours, the 
mother-city of Juda,"* where — wuth her many circling^ 
ramparts-— her lofty towers and castles; — where, filled 

* Philo, Legal, ad Caium, well calls Jerusalem, nat the metropolis; 
of one land, Judasa only, but of many. 



OP THE BANNER. 209 

as she was with the means of war, and crowded with 
myriads of valiant men, eager to defend her ! What 
has become of the city which we fondly believed to 
be the abode of God ? — Rased to the ground ! nothing 
now marks the spot where once stood Jerusalem ;— 
nothing but the tents of her destroyer ! Ah, and you 
may find there, as relics of the Jewish people, some 
miserable ancients, seated in the dust ; — or a few 
women, reserved to dishonour. 

" Which of us then, even if he could do so unhurt, 
should endure to behold another sun ? Who is there 
so false to his countr}^ — who so imbecile — who so 
chary of life, that does not vex to have survived so 
long as this ? Would we had all died rather than 
have seen the Holy City rased by the axe of the 
enemy — and the Temple, with horrible impiety, up- 
heaved from its foundations ! Our souls, indeed, have 
lately been fed by the generous hope of speedily 
avenging the fall of our city upon the foe.* But that 
hope now vanishes, and leaves us no option : — let us 
rush then upon an unsullied death. Let us have pity 
upon ourselves — upon our wives — upon our children, 
while yet we have the power to do so. Death indeed 
all must undergo; — but not injuries, bonds, insults; — 
or not unless our cowardice drives us to meet these 
greater evils. And what evils are they ? — Elate with 
confidence, we at first defied the Roman power: — 
once and again we have scorned the proflfered terms 
of our exasperated enemy : — dare we think then of 
his rage if he take us living? Wretched shall the 
younger of us be whose strength lasts out longer 
torment ! wretched the elders who have no power to 
sustain the trial ! One shall see his wife led away to 
suflfer violence ; another, with his arms bound, shall 
hear the cries of a son, vainly imploring a father's aid 
— ^No, this shall not be : — ^now — now are our hands 



a highly significant phrase. 

19* 



210 FANATICISM 

free ; now are our swords our own r — let them their 
do for us the kindly office ! Free from the thrall of 
our enemies, we die ; — free with our wives and chil- 
dren we launch from life. Our law enjoins the deed ; 
— our wives and our children implore this grace at 
our hands ; God himself throws the necessity upon us. 
The Roman would fain prevent it, and is all alarm 
lest any of us should perish before he can scale our 
defences. — We hasten then to offer to him, instead of 
his desired revenge, amazement at the boldness of our 
death." 

All started up as if seized with frenzy, or possessed 
with demons, to give instant effect to the advice of 
their chief. — Each man embraced his wife — his child, 
and in the midst of fond kisses — his arm unknowing 
what it did, gave the fatal plunge. Each thought a 
moment of the miseries from which that stroke 
redeemed his loved companion and progeny ; and all, 
without exception, dared the horrid act. Pitiable fate 
of men to whom it seemed the least of evils thus to 
make a carnage of their women and babes ! The 
husbands and fathers, feeling as if every moment they 
now survived was an injury done to the dead, hurried 
on what was yet to be effected. Fire was put ta 
whatever the fortress contained. Ten of the sur- 
vivors, chosen by lot, fell upon their companions: 
every man in dying embraced the bloody remains of 
his own. — One then chosen from the ten, slays the 
nine, and he, taking a last look around to ascertain 
that the work of death was complete, rushed on his 
sword. 

There is yet a form of popular fury which ought 
here to find a place, although its peculiarity may seem 
to disconnect it with any other kind. — We mean the 
atheistic fanaticism when it affects a community, and 
impels it to assault every mode of worship with intent 
to exterminate religious profession. Of this dire 
infatuation modern times have given us an example — 
the first in the history of mankind ; — may it be the 
last! 



OF THE BANNER. 211 

Atheism, when it spreads among a people in the 
form of an active and positive opinion — vauntingly 
professed and eagerly disseminated, is something very 
different from ordinary irreligion, or reckless and 
profligate impiety ; and it wiil be found to display 
each well known characteristic of a virulent religious 
creed : — it is in truth nothing else than a heresy ; and 
the proselyting Atheist, how much soever his pride 
may resent the imputation, is a mere zealot ; — yes, 
and a zealot surpassing others in blind malignancy. 
Is the bigot religionist dogmatical, acrimonious, impu- 
dent ? — is he a demagogue, and a noisy predicator of 
monstrous paradoxes ? Just such is the Atheist. And 
if the one readily seizes the occasion to act the perse- 
cutor, and to dip his hands in blood, so, as we have 
found, does the other. 

An opinion that attaches only to scattered individ- 
uals, displays nothing more than a sample of its 
genuine properties : but let it affect large masses of a 
people, or take possession of a community, and then 
its real qualities come into play. Every age has 
produced a few petulant sophists, who would fain 
persuade themselves and the world that they had at 
length rid their natures of the very rudiments of 
belief, and that they held nothing to exist which could 
not be handled and seen, tasted or smelt. But an 
affectation so extreme does not readily overthrow the 
common sense of mankind at large ; nor would it ever 
do so without the aid of peculiar and accidental incite- 
ments of a political kind. In fact all imaginable forms 
of monstrous error had been turned up in the chances 
of four thousand years before this of national Atheism 
— more monstrous than any, made its appearance. 
That the great body of an instructed people should 
yield itself a prey to the madness of Atheism, and 
should deliberately endeavour to rear the social struc- 
ture upon the site whence every vestige of worship 
and religious fear had been removed, was indeed a 
novelty that would not have been reckoned among 
things possible, or in any degree likely to take place. 



213 FANATICISM 

Yet the French revolutionary frenzy actually 
reached this pitch ; and it is well rennembered what 
was the temper of this last prodigy of the human 
mind, when it burst the shell. Its parents had 
announced that it would be rational, just, and mode- 
rate, as the beautiful creature of Philosophy ; but it 
instantly proved itself to be rabid and blood-thirsty 
like an offspring of the Furies ? As the Atheism of 
the philosophers would not have spread over the land, 
unaided by political impulses, so neither would the 
political passions that attended the course of the 
revolution, alone have sustained, and for so long a 
time, that sanguinary exasperation which raged 
through France year after year: and in fact the 
massacres and the executions of the republican era 
were, in almost every instance, hurried on by an 
embittered hatred of whatever appertained to religion: 
— legends of blasphemy were inscribed on all the 
banners of blood. The civil war was a crusade against 
God ; and those who at the commencement had pro- 
fessed it to be their ambition to blot out the name of 
Christ, w^ere borne along by the impulse to which 
they had yielded, and could not stop until they had 
spent all their spite in the endeavour to dethrone the 
Most High. 

We need only change the phrases current among 
the populace, and substitute one set of emblematic 
embeUishments for another, and then the horrid scenes 
of the French revolutionary civil war are repetitions, 
on a larger scale, of those exterminating frenzies that 
so often have desolated the fair provinces of that coun- 
try. A super-human spectator of terrene affairs — - 
ignorant of the dialect, and of the circumstantials, 
would quite have failed to distinguish the blood-shed 
and devastations of one era from those of another; 
and far from suspecting that the truculent savages of 
the Revolution were the disciples of philosophers, 
might have deemed them only superstitious friars, and 
templars, of a new and more intolerant order. 



OF THE BANNER. 213 

The authors of this confusion discerned, just in 
time, the jeopardy into which they had led the coun- 
try : — they hastily retraced their steps, and so mankind 
-lost the benefit of the spectacle which must soon hav& 
been witnessed if tlie Intolerance of Impiety had been 
left to run its round. Leave was given to the Maker 
and Ruler of the Universe to resume his place in the 
fears — though not in the affections of the people ; for 
it had been found that without the stay of religion the 
social machine could not safely perform its move- 
ments. The public heralds therefore proclaimed anew 
the Eternal ; and leave was granted, to the credulous 
at least, to expect a future life, and to fear retribution. 

The lesson perhaps may long serve the European 
nations, and no second attempt be made of a like 
kind. Yet what has once happened must no longer 
be spoken of as utterly beyond probability. This 
assuredly ought to be confessed, on the ground now of 
actual experiment, that if in any instance the ordinary 
or common and sensual impiety of the mass of man- 
kind comes to be quickened by a stirring spirit of 
disbelief — if the irreligion which hitherto has been 
slugglish or frivolous, kindles into a petulant bigotry, 
and utters itself in acrid blasphemies ; and especially, 
if the same atheistic zeal lurks in the bosoms of the 
upper classes, and ferments at the centre of govern- 
ment — then little will be wanted to put these forces 
in movement, or to direct them against the institutions 
and the parties that uphold the worship of God. A 
slight and accidental political excitement would be 
enough to bring on the crisis. Whenever — if ever — 
such a train of events shall in any country have room, 
it will be seen that, if Popery be a bad instigator of 
the malignant passions of the people. Atheism is a 
worse ; and that the fanaticism of impiety should be 
dreaded even more than that of superstition. 

The history of modern Europe, and of our own 
country especially, would have afforded many, and 
striking examples of that order of Fanaticism which 



214 FANATICISM. 

brings the military and religious sentiments into com* 
bination. The instances are present to the recollec- 
tion of every reader. And beside that a universal 
enumeration could subserve no important purpose, and 
would fill volumes, some of these cases are of that am- 
biguous and perplexing kind, which a writer may well 
desire to evade, rather than meet the dilemma of 
either giving a sanction to what it would be unsafe to 
approve ; or of sternly condemning what we ought 
not to think ourselves competent to adjudge as alto- 
gether immoral. Moreover, other cases of this order 
involve the political and religious prejudices of existing 
parties ; and are not to be spoken of without kindling 
the embers of faction. To call the originator of this 
or that body — a fanatic, would be, according to the 
interpretation of some, to become the champion of the 
opposite system of opinions. Or to brand with the 
same epithet the leaders on both sides, would be to 
wound (and still more deeply) the fond predilections 
of all. There are pages of our British history — Eng- 
lish, Scottish, and Irish, which will need to be written 
anew, when our religious factions shall have corae tci 
their end. 



SECTION VIII. 



FANATICISM OP THE SYMBOL. 



The arduous part of our subject now meets us. In 
reviewing those phases of error which have long ago 
passed away, we occupy a vantage ground, and may 
at leisure measure the proportions of the distant 
object. But every circumstance of the inquiry is of 
another sort when it is the extant form of reli«jion 
which comes to be examined, and when what we 
should calmly and impartially speak of, are practices, 
opinions and modes of feehng, regarded as excellent, 
or leniently dealt with as venial, by our contemporaries 
— our friends — our coadjutors — ourselves. 

It were an arrogance in any man to assume that he 
can exercise an absolutely impartial judgment con- 
cerning the things of his own age. No human mind 
has ever reached such serene elevation. If the char- 
acteristic and prevailing errors of the day have been 
discerned by here and there an individual, himself has 
not escaped that depressing influence which attends a 
long-continued and anxious meditation of objects that 
show a frowning face to whoever refuses them his 
homage. Conscious then of a disadvantage not to be 
avoided, and careful to maintain that modesty which 
which the knowledge of it should engender, we may 
yet advance, enheartened by the anticipation of an era, 
perhaps not very remote, when the religion of the 
Scriptures, having at length passed through the cycle 
of its degradations, shall, without any more hindrance, 
bless the human family. 



216 FANATICISM 

In contemplating the errors of past ages, no point 
more important presents itself, nothing which should 
so fix our attention as the fact that certain extravagant 
modes of feeling, or certain pernicious practices — the 
offspring of an active and virulent fanaticism, have, 
after a while, subsided into a fixed and tranquil form, 
such as has allowed them to win the approval and to 
secure the support of the calmest and most enlightened 
minds ; and so to be transmitted through successive 
ages — accredited, unquestioned, admired. The turbu- 
lent stage of fanaticism would do the church little 
harm if it w^ere not succeeded by a tame and mode- 
rate fanaticism — seemingly wise and temperate. — The 
parent in these instances is an ephemeron ; but the 
progeny has had a longer term than that of the phoe- 
nix. — The rugged surface of our globe, such as it is 
seen among the Alps or Andes, imposes awe, as if 
those stupendous piles of primeval rock, capped with 
the snows of thousands of winters, were the very 
symbols of protracted unchanging duration — or of 
eternity itself; and yet is it not true that the huge 
masses owe their stern grandeur and their lofty pride 
to terrible powders of commotion? — these mountains 
were upheaved when our world was in her fit of bois- 
terous phrenzy — when convulsions shook her centre. 
Instead then of regarding the now motionless forms 
as emblems of repose, we should deem them rather 
the relics and the portents too of confusion. 

Nothing, or nothing favorable, should be inferred 
on the behalf of any system or constitution of things 
from its present tranquillity, or from the moderation 
and the wisdom that invest it ; or from the accidental 
benefits which it may claim to have produced. The 
blackest superstitions have shewn an exterior mildly 
magnificent : — the extravagances of personal torture 
have worn the garb of seraphic piety: — the Fanati- 
cism of intolerance has shone in combination with 
great qualities ; and the zeal of military proselytism 
has made alliance with substantial virtues. There is 



OF THE SYMBOL. 217 

tiothing, then, to wonder at if even genuine piety and 
the brightest personal excellence are found to exist 
under a state of things which owes its origin to an 
impulse essentially fanatical. The question is always, 
not whether accomplishments and virtues and piety 
exist within this or that system ; but simply — whether 
the system itself be good or evil. 

The Fanaticism of the Symbol — or a malign and 
turbulent zeal for the honour of a creed, supposes of 
course, the possession of a written and authoritative 
canon of faith. But then this rule has to be inter- 
preted ; and the interpretation, in each instance, in- 
sensibly draws to itself those profound emotions which 
the sacred importance of the canon calls into play. 

It does not appear that sectarian rancour, in any 
distinct form, had shewn itself before the time when 
the Jewish prophetic economy having been sealed, 
and the written Testimony of God consigned, in a 
defunct dialect, to Interpreters, a field was opened 
to diversities of opinion, each of which challenged to 
itself entire, the prerogatives that attach of right to 
the original document. From the period when Expo- 
sition of Scripture became the business of a class of 
men, the Jewish community parted into sects which, 
in an exasperated condition, were the main causes of 
the ruin of the state, the destruction of the city, and 
the dispersion of the race. 

In this instance what we assume to have been new 
in the history of human nature, was not the existence 
or the breaking forth of the diversities of opinion ; for 
these have disturbed all countries in all ages ; nor was 
it the alliance of certain modes of thinking on abstract 
subjects with temporary and political interests ; for 
nothing has been more common than such associa- 
tions. But the novelty was precisely this — That the 
tremendous weight of God's sanction — truly believed 
to belong to the Canon of Faith, was claimed by each 
party in behalf of its special exposition of the rule. 
So fatal an assumption effected a firm coalescence of 

20 



218 FANATICISM 

every religious sentiment with the passionate workings 
of self-love, pride, jealousy, and the sense of personal 
and corporate welfare. 

Within the circle of these feelings every proper 
element of Fanaticism finds room, and no species of 
Fanaticism has been altogether so compact or so per- 
manent. The other kinds (as we have seen) have had 
their hour and have vanished ; this has settled down 
upon Religion — documentary religion, as well in Eu- 
rope as in Asia, and now in America, and has become 
the inseparable condition of all forms of Worship. 

We say every proper element of Fanaticism dis- 
plays itself in the Fanaticism of the Symbol. — As for 
example : — The Divine Being, when so outraged as to 
be made the patron of a virulent faction, appears to 
the votary altogether under a malign aspect, and can 
no more be thought of such as He is. Again, the 
irritation excited by opposition in matters of opinion, 
when heightened by a vindictive forethought of future 
judgment, brings with it the most peculiar species of 
misanthropy known to the human bosom ; and an ar- 
rogance too, that far transcends other kinds of aristo- 
cratic pride. With an anathematizing Deity — an 
anathematized world, and himself safe in the heart of 
the only Church, the zealot wants nothing that can 
render him malign and insolent. 

Mere diversities of opinion by no means necessarily 
involve virulent or acrimonious sentiments. Sad in- 
deed would it be if Christian amity, and that true 
unison of hearts and hands which the church should 
exhibit, could not be hoped for until an absolute uni- 
formity of notions and practices is brought about ; for 
it is plain that so long as one mind possesses more 
native power and more accomplishments than another, 
there must be inequalities of knowledge, and varieties 
of apprehension. Nothing less than the imparting of 
omniscience to every human being could remedy the 
inconveniences that arise from this source. Nor in fact 
are such differences ever found to throw a cloud over 



OF THE SYMBOL. 219 

private friendships, or to disturb tiie harmony of gene- 
ral society, while angry exaggerations and the swell- 
ings of wounded pride are avoided. 

There can therefore be no need whatever that, as a 
resource against the evils of sectarian virulence, we 
should either throw ourselves into the arms of Church 
despotism, and renounce the liberty of reason ; or give 
way to the relaxation and the apathy which would 
render us altogether indifferent to truth and error. 
This indeed were miserably to degrade human nature, 
and to quash its noblest ambition. We subtract the 
premium from mental industry, we remove the crown 
from the goal on the course of knowledge, when we 
discourage the zeal with which vigorous minds pursue 
Truth. How should mankind ever emerge from bar- 
barism, or how free themselves from the tyranny of 
superstition, if the first lesson we are to teach them is, 
that error has no noxious quality, and ti'uth no prerog- 
ative ? 

To affirm or to insinuate that a just and accurate 
knowledge of Religion avails little to our welfare, is 
not only a rank absurdity, but must be regarded as a 
pernicious tampering with that fatal insensibility which, 
alas, envelopes human nature. Instead of teaching 
the indifferency of opinion, rather let every man's 
anxiety to obtain for himself the inestimable pearl of 
genuine knowledge be stimulated to the utmost ; ,and 
then, not only will this jewel be individually secured, 
but the strange illusion will be broken up whence fanat- 
ical zeal takes its rise. — Strange illusion indeed, which 
impels a man who has bestowed little or no industry 
upon the business of seeking truth for himself, to use 
efforts so prodigious for forcing it upon others ! An 
anomaly surely is this in the common law of self-love. 
But the temper and conduct of the zealot are made up 
of inconsistencies. It is, he says, the well-being of his 
fellow men which incites his endeavours ; and yet no- 
thing in his style or mien bespeaks philanthropy. A 
disposition the very reverse of good-will one would as- 



220 FANATICISM 

suredly assign to him. Besides ; — while thus anxious 
to hear a faultless creed uttered by all lips, this cham- 
pion of the faith walks up and down in a much cor- 
rupted world, scarcely heeding the many grievous 
degradations under which humanity is suffering. His 
eye can glare upon wretchedness and upon vice in 
their most melancholy forms — and forget what it 
sees. Nay, into the cup of human woe he can himself 
pour the bitterest ingredients ; — he can afflict his fellow 
men with the whip, with the brand ; — he can cast them 
into dungeons, and leave them there to die in the pes- 
tilent damps of his charity ; — all this he can do, and 
still persuade himself that it is zeal for God and love 
to man which prompts his labours. 

Thus absurd is the human mind when fairly sur- 
rendered to religious delusions. The power of the 
infatuation in these cases seems to result from a com- 
bination of the opposite feelings belonging to full per- 
suasion and secret misgiving. The controvertist owes 
the heat of his zeal as well to firm conviction as to a 
mistrustful anxiety concerning the truth of his dogmas : 
— ^and the faith and the doubt are alternately attached 
to the authoritative document of his belief, and to his 
special interpretation of it. It is this very oscillation 
of the mind which produces the turbulence of his emo- 
tions. If the imagination be liable to high excitement 
from a pressing sense of the reality and the impending 
nearness of the objects that engage it, this excitement 
may be furnished either by a vivid faith in the original 
Canon, or by confidence in the Creed that has been 
derived from it. Then — as fear and jealousy bring 
the irascible passions into play, these will not fail to 
take occasion from — the obscurity of the subject in 
dispute — from the cogency of an opponent's argument 
— from a conscious incompetency to deal with matters 
so difficult, and not least, from those qualms which 
follow a too highly stimulated exertion of the faculties. 

In matters of belief, and especially when the power- 
ful motives of religion take full possession of the mind, 



OF THE SYMBOL. 221 

we involuntarily lean very much one upon another. 
This social instinct is perhaps stronger than is ordina- 
rily supposed ; and it is very likely to be lost sight of 
where the prevalence of angry passions appears to 
deny its existence. And yet it is in those very in- 
stances most intensely at work. Man proves himself 
to be constituted for society, as well by his hatreds as 
by his affections. Amid the dimness and the intricacy of 
the present scene, wherein Truth evades pursuit, and 
Error uses a thousand artifices to get herself courted, 
the perplexed spirit fondly looks for a numerous com- 
panionship in the path it takes. Our belief, and the 
comfort of belief, mount with the tens, and hundreds, 
and thousands, that are seen to be joining us on the 
road : — we cannot believe alone ; and our doubts too 
are in the power of others. To assail our convictions 
is not merely to wound our self-love, and to irritate 
our pride, but it is to withdraw something from the 
interior warmth and vigour of the soul. Without for- 
mally confessing it as a fact, that an antagonist has 
robbed us of our assurance — for the contrary would be 
affirmed, our feelings are the same as if we had been 
despoiled of that precious possession ; and these feel- 
ings prompt us not merely to resent the injury, but to 
recover the property lost. 

Putting out of view then certain accessory motives 
which will presently claim to be mentioned, the zealous 
champion and propagator of a Creed has an interest 
to promote that deeply engages his passions. Pride 
and secular advantages out of the question, it is a 
matter of sincere anxiety with him to secure, to main- 
tain, and to extend the pale of his party. He looks 
aghast at the danger of being deserted, or of seeing a 
host on the opposite heights. No endeavours are too 
great therefore which may arrest defection while it is 
small and feeble. Under the pressure of this solicitude 
it is no wonder that the defender of a Creed should 
avail himself of the extreme means of persuasion. ' Or 
if measures of violence are not at hand, he snatches 

20^ • 



222 FANATICISM 

up the weapons of spiritual hostility. And first, a 
strenuous endeavour is made so to identify the special 
interpretation with the Authoritative Canon of faith, 
as that whoever impugns the former shall stand de- 
clared — the enemy of God. Instead of for a moment 
admitting the reasonable and modest supposition that 
the Interpretation may perhaps contain more than the 
Canon will support, and that therefore caution should 
be used in doling out anathemas, every artifice of an 
elaborate sophistry is employed to keep such a sup- 
position out of view. Nothing less than the peculiar 
exigency of the occasion could drive the zealot into so 
egregious a dogmatism, for he feels that if he w5re 
to give ground but an inch, he must forfeit his usurped 
right to fling the bolts of heaven. If the Interpreta- 
tion be not indeed divine, it is merely human — a simple 
opinion ; and if so, must be submitted to the common 
conditions of argument. The headlong champion 
would not go so far as he does, if he knew how to stop 
short, or if there were any middle ground. It may 
well be believed that, in many an instance, the acri- 
mony and the blasphemous arrogance of sectarists 
have scandalized even themselves in their more sober 
moments. — But what could be done ? — As well sur- 
render the controversy and confess defeat, as relin- 
quish the right to curse in the name of God. This 
right laid down, and how meagre, how cold, how 
powerless a thing is the argument, reduced to its naked 
merits ! The punishment affixed by the laws of the 
moral world to the first offence of entertaining malig- 
nant exaggerations, is the necessity it involves of run- 
ning on to still worse excesses. Once madly insult 
reason and charity, and we are abandoned, perhaps 
for ever, by both. 

The transition is rapid and almost involuntary from 
the first stage of fanatical intemperance to its last : — 
the ground in these regions is precipitous, and whoever 
leaps, leaps into an abyss. The facility with which a 
specific gratification may be procured is a main cir- 



OP THE SYMBOL. 223 

cumstance in giving impetuosity to sordid desires : for 
while it is difficulty that enhances the nobler passions, 
it is facility that enhances the baser. So, especially, 
does it happen with rancorous and vindictive emotions. 
Only allow them a ready means of reaching their con- 
summation, and they rush on ungovernably. Now the 
pecuharity of the position which the religionist occupies, 
offers always to his hand the most tremendous missiles 
revenge can covet. On the field of common life many 
obstacles happily stand in the way to prevent the 
completion of an angry resolve : — the dark purpose of 
the moment postponed, dies away, and is forgotten. 
But it is not so in the spiritual world. The revenge 
which the irritated zealot meditates is ready — it is 
safe, and it is ample : — how then should it be foregone ? 
He has only to mutter perdition — and the stab is 
given. A murky revenge analogous to this of the reli- 
gionist has been common among barbarous and super- 
stitious hordes. — The malign sorcerer — intimate of 
demons, thinking himself full fraught with venom bor- 
rowed from the infernal world, is v^^ell content to dart 
a look only at his enemy ; sure that the mere glance 
of the evil eve of hatred would in due time take effect 
— that the florid cheek must fade — the strength decay, 
and the victim fall. 

Yet Conscience claims her hour with all men, even 
the most debauched ; and it must especially be so with 
those, whose habits make them conversant with the 
divine rule of morality. Such, although every day 
indulging the darkest malignity, are continually reading 
that " whosoever hateth his brother is not of God." 
They may abstain from distinctly bringing the crite- 
rion home upon themselves ; and yet are fain to have 
recourse to pleas that are intended to parry the con- 
demnatory inference from the rule. The pretexts of 
zeal are many : — and if, as we have seen, tormentors, 
murderers, devastators of kingdoms, can quote chapter 
and verse in justification of their barbarities, those who 



224 



FANATICISM 



only curse, but do not kill their opponents, may easily 
do the same. 

Many, as is evident from the peculiar character of 
their devotional sentiments, have taken a somewhat 
more circuitous, but a still more effectual method for 
lulling conscience, and for turning aside from them- 
selves the rules of charity. This method has been 
(alas the inconsistencies of human nature ! ) so to cherish 
the fervours of piety, and so to straiten the pattern of 
their externa! behaviour, as should seem to remove all 
suspicion of the genuineness and elevation of their 
personal religion. By amassing to a prodigious height 
the evidences of sanctity, a commensurate licence has 
been obtained for the indulgence of hideous passions. 
A man who every day ascends the mount of ecstasy, 
and holds intimate converse with heaven, surely should 
not be called in question, when he comes down to 
earth, on account of an inexorable or vindictive tem- 
per ! Examples of this very sort are abundant (and 
some have already been referred to) on the pages of 
Romish pietism ; and we may find on the calendar 
men whose breath was pestilence, whose every word 
was a fiery bolt, persuading themselves and their ad- 
mirers that they enjoyed celestial favours, such as 
Gabriel and Michael might envy ! To assume that 
the accident of a protestant creed quite excludes any 
parallel enormity, were indeed to be blind. What we 
are now speaking of is — humui nature, and the^mys- 
teries of its delusions ; — not the question of transub- 
stantiation, or of the pope's pretensions. 

Among those who make themselves conspicuous as 
the chiefs and leaders of the fanaticism of dogmas and 
creeds, many marked distinctions, arising from natural 
temper, might be pointed out ; but it must suffice here 
to mention the two orders of character that stand 
foremost. These are — The Despotic and the Ambi- 
tious. 

There have been Bajazets and Zingis Khans on the 
field where the quill is the only weapon that is wielded. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 225 

But how difficult is it to analyse satisfactorily the emo- 
tions that constitute the lust of power where nothing 
that is secular or tangible — nothing that is intelligibly 
advantageous — nothing that makes a man richer or 
better, is to spring from the attainment of his purpose ! 
While the earher and immature stages of a dominant 
passion retain many alliances with other motives, and 
are found to be mixed up with various ingredients, so 
as to afford several points of connexion, whence they 
may easily be traced to their sources, and brought to 
view ; — it is the characteristic of the last stage of such 
passions that, having let go every such alliance, they 
become inexplicable, and defy scrutiny : — a simple 
element admits of no analysis. The passion that has 
at length made itself exclusive master of the breast, 
closes the avenues, and enjoys its solitude. Thus it is 
with avarice. So long as any one purpose for which 
money avails is kept in view, we may conceive of the 
miser's avidity ; but after every ordinary desire has 
been excluded and renounced, the love of hoarding 
can be described only as an insanity, to which it is 
vain to apply the principles of reason. When the 
wretch, shutting out the pleasures of life, its pride, and 
Its hopes, clasps his shapeless bags as a sovereign good 
. — we lose hold of him— the last link of human sym- 
pathy is snapt, and he seem.s to go adrift from his 
species. 

A similar mystery belongs to the lust of power in 
those cases where it prevails exclusively of the hope 
of secular or palpable benefits accruing to the individ- 
ual. The passion which leads a man to subjugate 
kingdoms is intelligible ; but how shall we explain the 
feeling that makes a man pant to bring the realms of 
mind under bondage, and when it is not himself that 
is to enjoy the homage of the vanquished world ? 
Now it is a curious fact, that the individuals who have 
exhibited in the extremest degree this species of insa- 
tiable arrogance have themselves occupied a subaltern 
position in the hierarchy or polity to which they ren- 



226 FANATICISM 

dered their services ; and have not shevv^n any very 
active personal ambition, as if the attainment of visi- 
ble supremacy had been their ultimate motive. 

Minds in an eminent degree fervent and energetic 
never occupy the common ground of vulgar interests : 
— their native region is a higher one — or a lower ; 
and although they may seem to be busy, and perhaps 
are so, with the ordinary concerns that fall under their 
management, these palpable elements are but so many 
ciphers of a more important intellectual process that 
is going on : — the matters handled are dice, by means 
of which a great game is played. Such spirits, con- 
versing with the ideal rather than with the actual 
world, see every thing in symbol. The revolutions 
and advancements, the perils or the increase of a hie- 
rarchy, mean, to such, more than can be given account 
of in common modes of computation. While the 
poet descries on the face of nature the types of a 
world of unsullied beauty, and while the metaphysi- 
cian gathers from the things around him nothing but ab- 
stract truth, there is a class of men whose conceptions 
of ideal perfection turn upon order — government, and 
the unison of wills.— Add to this peculiar intellec- 
tual taste a haughty asperity of temper, and bring the 
individual to his position within some vast edifice of 
despotism ; and he will exhibit the singular passion we 
are speaking of.— Or shall we adduce, an actual in- 
stance, and name the learned, irascible, dogmatic 
Jerom ? All his great merits duly admitted ;* and in 
truth Jerom stands unrivalled in his age, both for ac- 
complishments and force of intellect, it can yet be no 
injustice thus to point him out as a proper specimen of 

* The power of miracles was not reckoned among this saint's 
endowments, and it is singular that few men of superior understand- 
ing made any boast of tlie sort. Erasmus balances the disparage- 
ment ingeniously : — Gluod si cui nihil absque miraculorum portentis 
placere potest, is legat Hieronymianos libros, in quibus tot pend 
miracula sunt, quod sententice. No attention is due to a spurious 
Life of Jerom, in which miraculous powers are largely clairaed 
for him. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 227 

that theological despotic temper, which, irrespectively 
of personal advantages or aggrandizement, impels a 
man to refuse to others the liberty of thought and ut- 
terance, and which would, if it were possible, impose 
eternal silence upon the world of mind — so that all 
should bow, not indeed to himself, but to the authentic 
standard of belief which he admires and defends. 

With the fairest opportunities again and again pre- 
sented to him of ascending to whatever position he 
might please of ecclesiastical greatness, and of grasp- 
ing the fattest things of the Church, this extraordinary 
man broke away from the world, and from the pontifi- 
cal court, and freely, and without affectation, took up 
his abode in a narrow cell at Bethlehem.^ If at 
length a little sphere of personal influence gathered 
about him, it was by no efforts of his own that he 
thus came to be courted as chief of a community. f 
Jerom was, in the most complete sense — an intellec- 
tualist : — it cost him nothing to tread the pomps of the 
world under foot. Few perhaps have relished with a 
keener taste the delights of a literary course. Upon 
the books and parchments that crammed his cloister 
he gazed, pen in hand, with fond and greedy satisfac- 

• * Jerom's accomplished biographer (above quoted) will not allow 
the stupid monks of his own age to suppose that this illustrious man 
— monk as he is called — led a life in any sense like their own — csere- 
moniis obslrictam. And he subjoins an animated description of the 
ancient monastic institute — its liberty, its elevation, its purity Such, 
we grant, it might be when a Basil or Jerom presided ; but assuredly 
not so when the feeble and the fanatical were left to themselves* 
Let Palladius bear witness. 

t Though ordained Presbyter, and nominally charged, as Sulpitius 
testifies (Dialog. I.) with the care of the Church of Bethlehem ; he 
held office under the stipulation that he should not be burdened with 
the pastoral duties. His only external care seems to have been that 
of the consciences of the ladies who put their spiritual interests un- 
der his direction. Of the mode in which he acquitted himself of this 
duty the Epistles to Marcella, Eustochium, Paula, &c. give evidence. 
It should be added that not the slightest suspicion attaches to Jerom 
in these instances. Those who would indulge railleries on the occa- 
sion prove that they judge of the characters of men by the rule of 
their own vulgar knowledge of human nature. 



228 FANATICISM 

tion ; — the king of Babylon looking down from his 
gardens upon the gilded roofs of palaces, all his own, 
might have thought himself less happy.* 

Yet Jerom wanted, not only the serenity of the 
Christian temper, which may render a man happy in 
seclusion, though conscious of powers that might ena- 
ble him to shine in the first ranks of life ; but even 
that philosophic placidity which belongs to the genuine 
lover of physical or abstruse science. He was the 
Theologue — and the word is designation enough. So 
long as there might be heard, from any quarter of the 
wide world, a dissentient whisper — a breath of oppo- 
sition to the authentic decisions of the Church, no rest 
could be enjoyed, and no mercy could be shewn : the 
gainsayer must be crushed. " Never have I spared 
the heretic," is the boast of this doctor, "but have 
always reckoned and treated the enemies of the 
Church as my own."f 

None could dispute Jerom's merit in this instance. J 
Was there any where displayed a disposition to call 
in question, even in the most modest style, the immac- 
ulate creed or the faultless usages of the Church? 
Jerom started up from his pallet, and with the iron rod 
of his merciless eloquence pursued the offender from 
side to side of the empire ; — from Egypt to Britain ; — 
from Syria to Spain ; — from Numidia to Gaul.|| It is 

* A great part of his patrimony Jerom expended in the collection 
of a hbrary, which his writings prove to have included the principal 
literature of the age. These, purchased at Rome and in Egypt, he 
carried with him when the second time he abandoned public life and 
retired to Bethlehem. 

f Procem. adversus Pelagianos. 

X Erasmus in one place seems to deny Jerom's acerbity of temper, 
and appeals to certain mild expostulatory epistles addressed to his 
friends. But the proof of a man's disposition is to be gathered from 
his behaviour towards his enemies. Yet the same writer on another 
occasion says, speaking of his controversial and apologetical pieces — 
I n utroque vehemens et acer Hieronymus, ut nonnullis parum 
memor Christianas modestiae videri possit. But, says he, it is not 
to be wondered at that a man of so pure and holy a life should show 
some impatience toward gainsayers. 

Ij He protests however that it was Error, not Men, that he hated. 



OP THE SYMBOL. 229 

edifying to follow this defender of a perfect Church 
on those peculiar occasions in which the whole forces 
of his mind are employed — not to sustain some one of 
the capital principles of faith — nor some article of dis- 
cipline apparently good and sanatory; but a confessed 
and egregious abuse ; — an abuse against which mode- 
rate and reasonable men had already raised their 
voices ; — an abuse to which public opinion was then 
actually administering a partial remedy ; — an abuse 
moreover, which presently afterwards the very chiefs 
of the Church themselves found they could no longer 
uphold, and were compelled to denounce. It appears 
that scandalous irregularities had long attended the 
nocturnal services, or vigils, with which certain festi- 
vals were honoured. — Yes; but the usage was "a 
venerable" one ; — it had been authenticated : — The 
Church — ^the Church approved it : — popes pronounced 
it good : but more than all, a bold and contumacious 
dissident had come forward to impugn it. The night 
vigils therefore, with all their debaucheries, were to 
be valiantly maintained, and maintained too by the 
most inexorable ascetic of the age ! Amazing sole- 
cism ! this doctor, who would himself cheerfully have 
burned rather than sanction the marriage of a priest, 
is now heard pouring execrations upon an opponent 
whose extent of crime was to assert on the one hand 
the lawfulness of clerical matrimony, and to deny on 
the other the expediency of promiscuous nocturnal 
assemblages in Churches !* 

Aut certe, si in errore voluerint permanere, non nostram cnlpam esse, 
qui scripsimus, sed eorum, &c. His opponents attributed the warmth 
of his zeal to envy — Ego solus sum, qui cunctorum gloria mordear: 
et tarn miser, ut his quoque invideam, qui non merentur invidiam ! 

* The candle-light processions and nocturnal services which formed 
part of the ceremonial of the Church, were, like very many of its 
pomps and superstitions, adaptations only of idolatrous practices 
which it was found more easy to transmute than to abrogate. The 
Paschal vigils were the Thesmophoria, under a change of names. 
Who shall say whether decency has been most violated by the wor- 
shippers of Ceres, or the observers of candlemass ! The derivation 
of the nocturnal illuminations from Egypt to the Grecian worship, 



230 FANATICISM 

Athanasius, with a magnanimity that has extorted 
praise even from Gibbon, suffering, preaching, and 
writing in defence of a doctrine that constituted the 
very foundation of the Christian system, is well entitled 
to indulgence if at any time the heat or the anxieties 
of a momentous controversy lead him into intemper- 
ance of language. But what indulgence can be due to 
the despotic Jerom, whose arrogance bursts all bounds 
on an occasion in which a wise man would either have 
silently listened to rebuke, or have candidly and openly 
admitted the propriety and seasonableness of his op- 
ponent's objection ? 

An important lesson might be gathered from a re- 
view of the circumstances of each of the controversies 
in which this learned writer engaged ; but we muot at 
least pause a moment upon the one carried on against 
first, Jovinian, and then Vigilantius.* 

If any such exchange were practicable, we might 
well consent to throw into the gulf of oblivion one of 
the most voluminous of the Fathers — even Jerom him- 
self, as the price of recovering an authentic statement 
of the opinions and arguments of these two early dis- 
sidents, of whom in fact we can now learn nothing 
more trustworthy than what a good catholic of Spain 
or Ireland may know of the doctrines of Luther and 
Calvin by the favour of his priest. That they were 
men of unblemished faith and piety, as well as of vig- 
orous understanding, cannot be absolutely ascertain- 
ed, nor are even their specific opinions to be clearly 
determined. Contumelious exaggeration swells every 
sentence of the passages in which their opponents 
depict them.f It may however be inferred pretty 

and the adoption of the custom by the church, is traced at length by 
Ciampinus, Vetera Monimenta, Pars I. p. 190. Eusebius tells us that 
splendid illuminations were employed by Constantine as a means of 
bringing over the populace of Byzantium to Christianity. 

* Jerom does not abstain from the pun which the name of his op- 
ponent so naturally suggests. — " Vigilantius ? no, call him rather 
Dormitiantius.^^ 

t Ais Vigilantius os fcetidum rursus aperire, et piitorem spurciS' 
simum contra sanctorum martyrum proferre reliquias. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 231 

clearly that the one, as well as the other, inveighed 
against each of the principal superstitions of the times ; 
' — especially against the vow of virginity, and the 
merits of monkery — the mediation of saints — the wor- 
ship of relics, and the usage of promiscuous vigils. 
It seems also that the absolving power assumed by the 
clergy, and the secular usurpations of the hierarchy 
were called in question by them. No valid suspicion 
attaches to the proper orthodoxy of these men ;* but 
it is plain that the assault they made, though directed 
against single points only, or adjuncts of the faith and 
practice of the Church, involved inseparably the fate 
of the entire edifice of Religion — reHgion such as 
doctors and monks had made it. Every thing must 
have fallen to the ground — the polity, the creeds, the 
power of Rome, the monasteries : — not a stone could 
have been left upon another, if Jovinian and Vigilan- 
tius had succeeded in awakening the people of Chris- 
tendom from their trance, and had brought emperors 
and secular men of rank to listen to them favourably. 
Had these Reformers led back the minds of men to 
the Scriptures, and to the simplicity of faith and the 
soundness of morality — the horrors of more than a 
thousand years of superstition might have been saved. 
Alas 1 another destiny awaited the nations. The 
Church had reached, at the close of the fourth century, 
the edge of a steep ; but it yet stood upon ground 
whence a return was practicable. Learning and in- 
telligence were widely diffused ; and of the aliment of 
knowledge there was no dearth : a seal had not yet 
been set upon the volume of Scripture. The separate 
existence and independence of the Eastern and Wes- 
tern — the Greek and the Latin Churches, secured, or 
might have secured, an asylum to liberty. Indications 
too may be discerned of the fact, that although high 

* Jerom, in hia Catalogue of Church "Writers, assigns Vigilantius 
a place among heretics, only on the ground of" his opposition to the 
points above mentioned • had his orthodoxy been assailable, there is 
no doubt we should have beard of his delinquency. 



232 FANATICISM 

personages and dignitaries and eloquent writers, held 
together, and understood their common interest, there 
were individuals — perhaps multitudes, who were far 
from assenting to the superstitions o^the age, and who, 
with the Scriptures in their hands, dared to doubt, 
though hardly to speak or act.* 

The regeneration of the Church was in that age 
hypothetical ly possible, and actually attempted ; yet it 
utterly failed. The men whose intelligence and ex- 
pansion of mind should have taught them to listen to 
reproof, and who should have entertained — if it had 
been but for a moment, the suspicion that the course 
of things might be unsafe — these, with a headlong in- 
temperance, rushed upon the objectors, and triumphed. 
Ambrose, Augustine, and Jerom, the three illustrious 
leaders of the age, joined their giant strength, and gave 
to the Church the plunge which sent it down to the 
abyss. Whatever of degrading superstition, whatever 
of sanguinary fanaticism, whatever folly, whatever 
corruption, whatever cruelty, belonged to the religious 
condition of Europe under the sway of Hildebrand, 
may be assigned (as a true consequence) to the part 
taken and the course pursued by the great men we 
have named: — the fate of mankind through a long 
night of ignorance and malign tyranny was sealed 
when Ambrose, Augustin, and Jerom, combined to 
cnish dissent. 

Shall we apportion the blame iamong the three? 
If it were attempted to do so, a distinction,, often 

* The frequency and the seriousness of Augustine's references to 
the heresy of Jovinian prove that it had spread to an alarming extent : 
the same may be gathered from the anxiety of Jerom. The former, 
De Bono Conjugali, and Retract, b. ii. c. 22, says — -Joviniani haeresis 
sacrarum virginum meritum aequando pudicitiae conjugali tantum 
valuit in nrbe Roma, ut nonnuUas etiam sanctimoniales, de quarum 
pudicitia suspicio nulla praecesserat, dejecisse in nnptias diceretur . , , 
Although repressed by the Churchy the monstrous doctrine continued, 
it is added, to be whispered and insinuated during several years. 
Jovinian himself was exiled to the island of Boa — a rock on the 
lUyrian coast, where he died i — such was the lolerauce of the fourth 
century I 



OP THE SYMBOL. 233 

requisite, must be made between personal criminality, 
and the actual ill consequence of a fatal course of 
conduct ; for while it is Jerom who must bear almost 
alone the blame of indulging a despotic and malignant 
temper, it was the opposite qualities of Augustine — his 
mildness and his piety, that gave to his influence a 
permanent efficacy. Mankind would have sickened 
at the arrogance of the one, if the other had not stood 
by his side. The bishop of Milan perhaps should take 
station between the two.* 

Fanaticism, as we assume, combines always malign 
and imaginative sentiments, and in some instances the 
former, in others the latter, predominate. Thus, in 
the case of the despotic champion of existing establish- 
ments, the darker ingredient prevails over the brighter, 
or quite excludes it. But with the ambitious propa- 
gator of novel dogmas, or the factious chief of a sect, 
the imaginative element is ordinarily paramount ; and 
it is not until after the temper has been impaired by 
exposure to irritation that the irascible and vindictive 
passions take the lead in the character. The religious 
demagogue is at first an Enthusiast only, and rises to 
fanaticism upon the winds of strife. Moreover the 

* Jerom had much more to do with these dissidents than either 
Ambrose or Augustine. The bishop of Milan, in an epistle to pope 
Syricins, reporting the result of a council of seven or eight bishops, 
held there for the condemnation of certain heretics, assures his holiness 
of their perfect concurrence with the papal court: — Jovinianum, &c. 
&c. quos Sanctitas Tua damnavit, scias apud nos quoque, secundum 
judicium tuum, esse damnatos. All were no better than Manichees, 
whose impious doctrine — clementissimus exsecratus est imperator 
(Theodosius) — and whose sectatorshad been expelled from Milan. 

The allusions made by Augustine to Jovinian are in a somewhat 
better style ; and it appears from them that his opinion was formed 
upon hearsay. See De Pec. Merit, et remis. h. iii. c. 7, and De Jfupt. 
h. ii. c. 5 ; where we learn that Jovinian had first dared to call Am- 
brose — Manichee — the common epithet then of theological contempt, 
and flung from side to side like Methodist or Calvinist. Taking 
Augustine's own account of the matter, as stated a little further on, 
in the same treatise, it must be granted that Jovinian had some reason 
on his side when he charged the Church with favouring Manichaeism 
by her idolatry of virginity. To the same purport see Contra duas 
epist. Pelag, b. i. c. 1. Contra Julian, b. i. c. 2, 

21* 



234 fanaticism: 

natural progression of his sentiments involves another 
unfavourable turn; for the public course he pursues, 
and the emergencies which, as head of a party, he 
encounters, present many occasions wherein neither 
his enthusiasm nor his fanaticism — neither poetry nor 
tragedy, will bear him clear of the perplexing embar- 
rassments that surround him. — He has recourse 
therefore to guile ; and from that fatal moment every 
sentiment assumes a new relative position, or itself 
undergoes transformation. It is as when a single 
drop of some potent essence is suffused in a chemical 
compound ; what just before was colourless, or of a 
briUiant hue, is now, and in a moment, turgid ; the 
splendour of the rainbow is gone ; an earthy feculence 
clouds the liquor ; — heat too is evolved, and noxious 
fumes rise from the surface. 

The despot remains nearly the same from the 
commencement to the close of his career -,. for pride 
and hatred are steady qualities, and arrogance i& 
stagnant. But the demagogue, &r factious leader, 
passes through three stages of character at least ; and 
when he come to the goal is often hardly to be recog- 
nized as the being who started. The Despot too, is 
very nearly the same personage under every diversity 
of ecclesiastical system. But the sectarist or schis- 
matic receives a specific character from the circum- 
stances that surround him, and from the qualities of 
the body from which he breaks off. This accidental 
influence may be either for the worse or the better ;. 
and in truth when the body is in an extreme degree 
corrupt, and the objection insisted upon by the sepa- 
ratist is in the main reasonable, we cannot be justified 
on the ground merely of some extravagance or 
vehemence of conduct, to designate the Objector as a 
Fanatic. A man who takes up a righteous cause may 
speak or act fanatically, and yet well deserVe our 
respect and gratitude. He alone should be called 
fanatic, whose course of conduct was at first prompted 
by impetuous passions ; and who throughout it, shrinks- 
from the calm ordeal of reason. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 235 

Protestantism has been reproached on account of 
its fruitfulness in factions : the same reproach unques- 
tionably attaches, and in an equal degree, to the 
ancient Church, and especially in the era of its highest 
secular prosperity. But the Church of Romo boasts 
of her unity; and she may be allowed to do so. Not 
now to mention the terrible means she has employed 
to quash rising schism, we should bear in mind that 
main principle of her polity which has left a wide 
field open always to spiritual enterprise and ambition. 
Protestant Churches have failed to calculate upon 
certain unalterable tendencies of human nature, and 
have made no provision for giving vent to exuberant 
zeal. The very same minds which, during the first 
four centuries, or among ourselves, would have 
headed a faction, and given their name to a hostile 
and separate communion, have, under the fostering 
care of the Papacy, lent their extravagance to the 
Church itself, and have proved its most efficient 
supporters. 

Either as Founder of a new order, or as Regenerator 
of an old one, energetic and ungovernable spirits saw 
before them at all times an open field. It is true that 
a curbing hand was held by the popes upon this 
species of ambition ; yet the restraint was not more 
than enough to enhance, by difficulty, the passion for 
enterprise. The young and frenzied devotee, after 
astounding the monasteries of his native province 
by unheard-of severities — by portentous whims — by 
wastings, whippings, visions, ecstacies ; and after 
imposing upon his superiors an unfeigned terror by 
turbulences of behaviour — always thoroughly catholic, 
and therefore so much the more difficult to be dealt 
with, obtained their ready leave (with flaming creden- 
tials in his hand) to beg his way bare-foot from Spain^ 
France, or Germany, to Rome. — At the foot of the 
Sovereign Pontiff he threw himself in the dust — 
prostrate, body and soul : — there he wept and raved 
his season; — already he bad vowed himself the 



236 FANATICISM 

" dauntless Chevalier of the Virgin," and only waited 
permission to fight her battles, and those of the 
Church, under sanction of its Head. During the 
weeks or months of suspense, his austerities and his 
pretensions roused a hundred jealousies among the 
comers and goers of the papal court: feuds and 
seditions made a perpetual din under the windows of 
the Vatican ; and it seemed as if all the demons had 
flocked together to thwart if possible the holy purpose 
of the new adventurer, from whose hand they 
expected many a terrible buffet. At length the Holy 
See, having proved the constancy of the candidate ; 
or shall we rather say, having ascertained that his 
frenzy was of the sort which, though it might be 
managed, could not be repressed, and glad to rid 
itself of the importunity, granted the desired sanction, 
and signed the Brief.* 

The Founder or the Reformer, now big with a 
licence that would reach all extents of absurdity, paced 
his way back— patrician mendicant ! to his native 
mountains. Monasteries spring up about him in each 

* The career of Ignatius Loyola combines, in the most complete 
manner, all the proper elements of ambitious sectarian fanaticism ; 
and a well written life of this illustrious founder might subserve other 
purposes than that of exhibiting the folly, knavery, and superstition, 
that are encouraged by the papacy. We much need — protestants as 
we are, to have placed before us, and for our instruction, those vivid 
instances of delusion and extravagance which the annals of the Romish 
Church so abundantly furnish. Whoever has closely and calmly 
watched the growth and maturity of fanatical illusion in the case of 
certain noted individuals that still figure on the stage of ghostlj' am- 
bition, must have become convinced that nothing but accidents and 
names — costume and phrase, often distinguishes canonized from 
uncanonized heroes. Might it be hoped that the parties themselves, 
or at least their well-read chiefs, would look into the glass of history, 
and catching there their own resemblances, draw an inference of 
incalculable importance ! Would any one who retains a particle of 
good sense or sober Christian feeling wish to find that his public 
course has been, in its essential motives, and in very many of its cir- 
cumstances, the counterpart of that of men whose names are signalized 
as the spiritual fathers of innumerable cruelties, impostures, and cor- 
ruptions ? Let Gonzales and Ribadeneira be read and digested by 
any who, while panting for the notoriety of miracle, are forgetting 
truth, honour, reason, faith, virtue. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 237 

cleft of the rocks : — his rule attracts every moon- 
stricken brain of the province ; and in a year or Iw^o 
he moves about, the admired patron of insanity — far 
and near. Such, in substance, has been the history of 
scores of adventurers who, had it been their ill luck to 
be born on protestant ground, could have done nothing 
more illustrious than give an ignoble name to an ignoble 
sect — have troubled their own age by angry divisions, 
and have conferred upon three centuries after them, 
the burden of some hard-to-be-uttered epithet of 
faction. 

Deprived of its monkish apparatus (considered only 
as a means of drawiog off restless ambition) the Romish 
hierarchy could not have stood its ground so long. 
Only let us follow up to its consequences the supposi- 
tion that it had had, age after age, to contend with the 
dauntless spirits that originated or restored the several 
orders — with St. Dominic, and St. Francis ; with St. 
Bernard, with Loyola, and with De Ranee ; in that 
case it had long ago been rent and scattered to the 
winds. 

So far as considerations of this sort should be allow- 
ed to influence spiritual affairs, the question would 
deserve to be entertained. Whether a permanent and 
readily available provision should not be made within 
the arms of a protestant church for giving a range to 
those extraordinary dispositions and talents which in 
all times make their appearance, and which, if not 
preoccupied, do not fail grievously to trouble the com- 
munity that neglects them. 

Fanaticism, we have said, has first an active or tur- 
bulent, and then a settled and moderated form ; for 
that which begins with inflammatory symptoms, sub- 
sides into a chronic derangement. In its earlier state 
it attaches chiefly to minds of inferior quality ; but in 
its latter it insidiously invades the most generous, vigor- 
ous, and accomplished ; and from these it draws a 
thousand recommendations that ensure to it credit and 
perpetuity. So was it (as we have seen) with the 



238 FANATICISM 

frenzy of asceticism, which, after raging among the 
vulgar — the Anthonys and the Symeons of Egypt and 
Syria, became epidemic in the high places of the 
Church, and overpowered the sense and piety of Basil, 
Gregory, Chrysostom, Jerom. So again the fanatic 
cruelty of intolerance, at first entertained only by the 
basest natures, crept at length upon the noble ; and a 
Ximenes is seen to take up the tools of a Torquemada. 
And so with the fanaticism of religious war ; — where 
Peter the Hermit and Walter the Pennyless led the 
way, Godfrey and Louis follow, with Bernard as their 
guide. 

The very same kind of progression has had place, 
and even with worse consequences, in the history of 
the Fanaticism of dogmas and creeds. The authors 
and prime agitators of controversy — the men whose 
plebeian names descend as an obloquy to after ages, 
have (with a few exceptions) possessed but a poor 
title to celebrity ; and, apart from the turbulence of 
their tempers, or their insatiable ambition, could never 
have attracted the attention of mankind. But the 
agitation so engendered spreads ; and at length none 
can well avoid ranging themselves on this side or on 
that of the question : great talents and solid virtues are 
drawn into the vortex ; and so it happens that, while 
the ostensible mischiefs of strife — the rancour and the 
violence of the feud are moderated, its essential evils 
are deepened, and rendered permanent. — A christian 
country, or a community, is in this manner cast into a 
factious condition, and in that state abides age after 
age. But factious religionism, how much soever it 
may have been tamed and curbed, will not fail to be 
encircled by wide spread impiety, and infidelity, as the 
direct effects of the scandal of division. — Factions, 
moreover, benumb the expansive powers of Chris- 
tianity, and prevent its spread. — They create too a 
universal confusion, entanglement, and perversion of 
religious notions. No inquiry can be calmly prose- 
cuted, no results of solitary meditation can be safely 



OF THE SYMBOL. 239 

reported, nothing can be looked at in its native form, 
so long as the jealousies and the interests of eight or 
ten ancient and corporate factions spread themselves 
over the field of theology. Even those few insulated 
articles of Christian belief or speculation, or of abstruse 
science, which have not been claimed by party zeal, 
are often found to alarm the wakeful fears of this or 
that guardian of sectarism, merely because the method 
of argument which may have been employed in such 
instances is foreseen to have a bearing upon matters 
that are to be held inviolable. — The opinion in itself 
may be innocent enough ; but the logic that sustains 
it is dangerous. — Better then quash at once the suspi- 
cious novelty, which, though it may be good and true, 
is not momentous, than favour it, and so open the door 
to no one can say what innovations ! 

So poor, so timid, so feeble, so inert, so grovelling, 
so infatuated, is the human mind ! Truth, which alone 
can be permanently advantageous, and which alone 
can reward labour or compensate losses, is looked at 
and listened to with eagle-eyed alarm ; nor is enter- 
tained until she has protested, ten times over, that she 
means to rob us of nothing we dote upon. 

Less than two hundred years ago — even so late as 
the close of the seventeenth century, this very same 
sectarian infatuation, this fanaticism of the creed and 
symbol, enthralled the physical and abstruse sciences, 
throughout Europe. No process of nature, no me- 
chanic law, could be investigated or discussed apart 
from the interference of the fierce jealousies of rival 
schools. A chemical mixture could not change from 
blue to red, from transparent to opaque — an apple 
could not fall to the ground, nay, the planets might not 
swing through their orbits, without kindling angry feuds 
in colleges. Not only was the method of obtaining 
knowledge utterly misunderstood ; but it was not be- 
lieved, or not felt, that Knowledge is always the friend 
of man, and his coadjutor ; Error his enemy. This 
degraded condition of the human mind was at last 



240 FANATICISM 

remedied by nothing but the bringing to bear upon the 
Metaphysic-Physics of Des Cartes and Aristotle, a 
method of reasoning so absohitely conclusive that re- 
sistance was found to be useless. Prejudice and anti- 
quated jealousy did not freely yield themselves up and 
dissolve : — they were undermined, they fell in, and 
were seen no more. 

This deliverance of Philosophy — a very recent de- 
liverance, though effected within a particular precinct 
of inquiry only, rapidly extended itself over the entire 
field of the sciences. Whether or not immediate 
success attended the pursuit of knowledge, every thing 
was scouted but its attainment. The scientific com- 
munity blushed at the fond follyof ranging itself under 
rival leaders ; — it coalesced as one body or phalanx, 
advancing under one banner. 

Can it be conceived of as a thing even possible that 
pure reason should have had sway in philosophy so 
long as the interests of sects were to be cared for 2 
Those two powers. Truth and Party, were not in fact 
contemporary scarcely a year ; or contemporary only 
as Night and Day are so, through the hasty moments 
of twilight. Indeed the mere existence of factions in 
any department of opinion, is a conclusive proof that 
the method of inquiry, in that department, has not yet 
been found ; or at least is not generally understood. 

Causes which need hardly be specified, have hitherto 
excluded from the precincts of Theology the reform 
that has spread through every department of natural 
science. — The dogmatic fanaticism which raged at the 
time of the Reformation, passed down uncorrected 
upon the political and ecclesiastical constitutions of 
the northern nations of Europe, and especially upon 
those of England, and it now firmly grasps the religious 
commonwealth. The violence of religious strife has 
indeed long died away ; or it breaks out only for a 
moment; but no relief has yet been adniinistered to 
the settled ill consequences of that delirium. So far 
as we are religious at all, the English people is a nation 



OF THE SYMBOL. 241 

of sects, and our theology is necessarily the theology 
of faction. — Not a false theology — thank God ; but a 
theology that is confused, entangled, and imperfect, 
gloomy ; — a theology which, while it abundantly breeds 
infidelity among the educated classes, fails to spread 
through the body of the population, and but dimly, or 
only as a flickering candle, illumines the world. 

The recent consolidation of religious liberty, while 
it may fairly be hailed as an auspicious event, and 
likely to bring about at length the disappearance of 
faction, is utterly misunderstood by those who regard 
it as equivalent to the emancipation of Christianity. 
Far from being the same thing, this overthrow of ec- 
clesiastical despotism has, in its immediate effects, as 
was natural, highly inflamed the sectarian sentiment, 
or has given it a new birth. The exultation of the 
triumphant party, and the discontent of the defeated 
party, have, in different mcdes, infused an energy into 
the virulence of both, which seems not unlikely to pro- 
long the existence of our absurd divisions, perhaps a 
fifty years. 

A happier destiny may sooner break upon us ! But 
whether it does or not, it is certain that an unobtrusive 
power has beeo some while at work beneath the entire 
ground of our sectarian edifices — a power which must 
(unless arrested) inevitably in the end, bring them down 
to the abyss. — The philosophy of the schools sunk to 
rise no more when the true method of science gained 
its first indisputable triumph. But although the same 
method is not formally applicable to theology, yet the 
principle of it is so, and is actually in its incipient 
stage of application — or perhaps has gone a step be- 
yond that stage.* The art of criticism and the true 

* Many more talk of, the Baconian nmethod than seem to be 
masters of it ; or than have probably ever read ten pages of the 
Novum Organon. The assertion may be hazarded that, even in the 
walks of physical science, multitudes of those who are pretty well 
versed in the actual products of the modern philosophy, have not a 
conception of the principle of investigation as set on foot by Bacon. 
This ignorance is stiU more prevalent on the side of Intellectual, 



242 FANATICISM 

logic of Interpretation must restore to the church 
(under that guidance which is never denied when 
ingenuously sought) the pure meaning of Scripture. — ■ 
The charm that cements petty communions will then 
dissolve ; the excellence of Truth will be felt, and the 
fanaticism of dogmas will die away, when all men 
learn to hold in contempt every thing in religion but 
the ascertained sense of God's Revelation. Diversi- 
ties of opinion must indeed remain so long as there 
are diiferences of intellectual and moral power ; but 
these will engender no heat, and will produce no 
divisions, when all minds shall be moving on toward 
one and the same centre. 

It would not have been anticipated as possible, that 
among those who reverenced the Scriptures, a super- 
stition such as that of the papacy should at all have 
had existence. But history, in too many instances, 
and in this, contradicts reasonable calculations, and 
shews that the perversity of man may thwart every 
beneficent provision of heaven. In like manner it 
might have been thought that the internal constitution 
of the Inspired Volume, as well as its express precepts^ 



Ethical, and Theological Science. To speak only of the latter, it is 
deemed a thoroughly Baconian process to adduce, in series, all the 
tests that bear upon a certain article of faith, and at the end to sum 
up the evidence. — This is called Induction. But now if we look a 
little closely to the method and principle of interpretation, as applied 
to each passage, we shall find that the prime maxim of the dogmatic 
and scholastic divinity, which demands that every thing should be 
judged of according to The Analogy of Faith, and nothing 
admitted which cannot be reconciled thereto, or which may by 
inference give countenance to a known heresy, rules throughout. 
This surely is not to learyi from prophets and apostles, but to teach 
them ; and it is precisely the method which swayed so long the dark 
realms of pseudo-philosophy. In theology we have the forms of the 
inductive method often where there is little or nothing of its substance. 
A good work would it be to deduce from the Novum Organon those 
capital and universal principles which are indeed apphcable to Intel- 
lectual and Sacred Science. Etiam dubitavit quispiam potiiis quam 
objiciet, utrum nos de naturali tantiim Philosophia, an etiam de 
Scientiis reliquis, Logicis, Ethicis, Politicis, secundum viam nostram 
perficiendis loquamur. At nos certe, de universis kjec, q,vjE. 

DICTA SUNT, INTELLIGIMUS. 



OF THE SYMBOL. 243 

would have precluded the factions that have rent the 
Church in every age. It has not been so ; neverthe- 
less this internal constitution well deserves our atten- 
tion. — It is only while we distinctly regard it that we 
can see in a proper light the folly of those disorders 
which fill out the volume of Church history. 

Let it then be assumed that two main purposes 
w^ere to be secured in giving a written rule of faith to 
mankind, namely, first, an infallible conveyance of 
that Principal Sense of Revelation which is essen- 
tial to genuine piety; and secondly, such a convey- 
ance of the ADJUNCTIVE or secondary portions of 
religious truth as should render despotic determina- 
tions on the one side, and scrupulous schisms on the 
other, manifestly unreasonable. We have to see in 
wdiat manner both these ends are provided for by the 
actual constitution of the canon of Scripture. 

It is saying little to affirm that no composition, 
whether historical or didactic (if the language in 
which it is WTitten be understood) fails to convey to 
readers of ordinary intelligence the Principal Intention 
of the writer, unless indeed he himself be wanting in 
sense, or designedly conceals his meaning under 
ambiguous or enigmatic terms. This is plainly im- 
plied when it is granted that language is a good and 
sufficient means of communication between mind and 
mind. To affirm any thing less were to stultify human- 
ity, and to break up and derange the entire machinery 
of the social system. All men might as well become 
anchorets at once, if indeed language is found to be a 
fallacious medium of intellectual exchange. 

And what is true of oral communication, is true 
^Iso (with a very small deduction) of written commu- 
nication. Moreover what may be affirmed concerning 
the written conveyance of thoughts among contempo- 
raries, becomes liable only to an inconsiderable dis- 
count, when we have to do with the writings of past 
ages. This discount is much reduced if the composi- 
tion in question forms part of a vast collection of 



244 FANATICISM 

contemporary literature. As it is certain that men 
must be fools or knaves when permanent misunder- 
standings arise among them in regard to the main 
intention of their personal communications ; so is it 
certain that the principal scope of a book, ancient or 
modern, is always to be known where both writer and 
reader are ingenuous. 

Nothing less then than an extreme perversity of 
judgment, such as renders the powers of language 
nugatory, can, in any case, give rise to an entire 
misunderstanding of an author's principal sense. 
Admit only these ordinary conditions — that the writer 
was honest and of sound mind — that he was master 
of the language he employs, and that he made it his 
serious business to convey to his reader in the best 
way he could, certain capital articles of information — 
historical or moral, and then it follows, without an 
exceptive case, that his meaning on those prime 
articles is readily attainable by whoever himself owns 
common sense and a competent acquaintance with 
the writer's language. To take apart, for example, 
any one of the canonical writers, it is absolutely 
certain that the leading facts or dogmas which he 
means to teach, stand upon the surface of his compo- 
sition. Has disagreement arisen in regard to these 
main facts or dogmas 1 — nothing less than the egre- 
gious wilfulness of the human mind can have caused it. 

On the ground of the admitted principles of lan- 
guage and of historic evidence, any one of the Gospels, 
with the Acts, and any one of the larger epistles, 
would amply and indubitably have handed down to us 
the SUBSTANCE of apostolic Christianity. If it be not 
so — a thousand tomes cannot do it. — If it be not so, 
we might stand by with indifference and see another 
Amrou throwing his brand upon a pyre that should 
contain every existing relic of antiquity. 

But the Divine indulgence has far exceeded neces- 
sary bounds in affording to mankind the materials of 
sacred knowledge. No parsimony is to be complained 



OF THE SYMBOL. 245 

or on the part of the Instructor : nothing is wanted 
but ingenuousness in the scholar. The great articles 
of belief and duty have come to us through the instru- 
mentality of nearly forty writers, to each of whom was 
■allowed his entire and undisturbed mental indimdu- 
ality — his personal temper and taste, his own style, 
both of sentiment and of language, together with 
whatever speciality, either of sentiment or of language, 
he might draw from the influence of time and country. 
Each writer, while the track of his thoughts is steered 
by an unseen hand, moves on in a spontaneous course. 
Can any provision be added to this arrangement which 
should promise to exclude the possibility of a failure in 
transmitting the elements of religious knowledge ? 
Let it be imagined that, out of the forty, two or three, 
or even seven, were obscure, abrupt, elliptical, mystic: 
- — vet all will not be so: — for one whose style is 
emblematic or difficult, there will (on common prin- 
ciples of probability) be five that are natural and 
perspicuous. 

But we have asked for another security against 
failure in the conveyance of the main points of religion; 
and we find it in the fact that this congeries of wit- 
nesses has been drawn, not from one century, but 
from the course of fifteen. Whatever diversity time 
can impart is by this means included — So broad is 
the base of that pyramid which was to stand through 
all ages, pointing man to the skies \ Are we then to 
be told that what prophets and apostles believed, and 
what they taught to their contemporaries, and what 
they intended to transmit to posterity, comes down 
to us under an impenetrable obscurity? No miracle 
would be so hard of belief as this. 

It need not be added that the correlative security of 
ancient versions and interpretations, in endless abund- 
ance and variety, surrounds these documents of our 
faith, and every way precludes the chances of capital 
error in relation to the Principal Sense of the whole. 

There is an infirmity of the mind which impels us, 

22* 



246 FANATICISM 

on many occasions, to overlook or distrust those 
special circumstances whereon our welfare really de- 
pends, while we anxiously search for provisions of 
safety that either are utterly unattainable, or that 
would be pernicious if possessed. How often have 
feeble minds (and perhaps some strong minds) wished 
that a perpetual miraculous interposition had been ac- 
corded, such as should have exempted the Inspired 
Writings from the accidents and ordinary conditions 
that attend other compositions, and that affect ancient 
literature in the course of its transmission from age to 
age. Given at first by supernatural means — why has 
it not been accompanied and preserved by miracle 
through the periods of its descent to our times ? 

Need we reply — because it is from these very dis- 
paragements (if such they should be deemed) that are 
to be gathered the best evidences of the genuineness 
of the document itself. And it might be added — be- 
cause the accidental difficulties or obscurities that be- 
long to the Scriptures in common with all other lit- 
erary remains of antiquity, have a direct tendency (if 
we will but admit it) to disturb and put to shame the 
senseless superstition — the doting upon particles, and 
w^orshipping of iotas, which makes duty and faith to 
hang upon this or that etymology or syllable.* 

* It is perhaps quite unnecessary to point out the conspicuous dis- 
tinction between an overweening zeal for this or that interpretation 
of single passages or phrases — and the laudible endeavour of the critic 
to ascertain, first, the real text of an inspired writer ; and then, the 
actual sense in which his words were understood by the persons to 
whom they were addressed. We have affirmed above, that the Scrip- 
tures, like all other rational compositions, M'ill not fail to convey their 
principal sense to every ingenuous mind, if the langicage in which they 
were written is really and fully known to the reader. Now the impor- 
tant labours of Bibhcal critic are directed to this very purpose of 
putting the modern reader (so far as is possible) into the position of 
the ancient reader. Dogmatic interpretation should not — cannot 
reasonably commence, until the language, with all its essential pro- 
prieties, is brought under our familiar cognizance. If there be any 
usage of words, any principle of construction, any special sense of 
terms, the knowledge of which is important to an exact grammatical 
rendering of the sacred text, the utmost diligence should be employed 



OP THE SYMBOL. 247 

Of all impracticable miracles (if the solecism may 
be pardoned) the most impracticable and inconceiv- 
able would be that which should exempt a mass of an- 
cient writing from those accidents w^hence ambiguity 
or difficulty of interpretation, in single instances, arises. 
Any such interposition, to have been effectual, must 
not only have extended through the original document, 
imparting to each sentence, phrase, and word, an insu- 
lated perfection, and imbuing each verse with a sort 
of phosphorescence ; but must have pervaded all times 
and places, guiding the hand of every drowsy copyist, 
and inspiring every translator. Nor would even this 
have been enough ; for the miracle, to have subserved 
any practical purpose, must have reached as well to 
the reader of Scripture, as to the writers and tran- 
scribers : — all minds must have enjoyed the very same 
measure of native power — must have possessed the 
same preparatory knowledge, the same simplicity of 
purpose, the same temper, industry, and power of re- 
tention. — First the book a perpetual miracle ; and then 
every reader a prophet ! The simpler method surely 
would have been for a voice to have sounded inces- 
santly from the sky, repeating every hour the monoto- 
ny of Truth ! 

The Divine machinery is of another sort ; and our 
gratitude, informed by reason, should follow the steps 
of that wisdom which adapts common insiruments as 
well to extraordinary as to ordinary occasions ; and so 

in fixing beyond doubt the rule, with its exceptions, "^'/hen erudition 
has done its utmost on such occasions, it has done nothing more than 
bring our modern mind into contact with the mind of the writer. 
Thus, for example, the inestimable labours of Bishop Middleton, and 
others, have just served to annul the disadvantage of receiving the 
testimony of the apostles on the most important doctrine of the Nevr 
Testament, through the medium of a dead language. The critic, in 
such a case, and so far as his labours extend, resuscitates the Greek 
of the apostolic age ; and gives us the benefit of listening to the liv- 
ing voice of Paul, Peter, and John. Preposterous then, as well as 
illiberal, is the objection of those who endeavour to evade the force of 
irresistible evidence by saying that the doctrine of the article is a triv- 
ial matter. 



248 FANATICISM 

adapts them, as to include various ends in one and the 
same system of means. 

Do we possess the rational satisfaction of perusing 
the history of our Lord's ministry in the words of four 
writers ? Yes, but this important advantage is taxed 
with the inconvenience (if such it be) of presenting 
frequent diversities of circumstance, order, and phrase- 
ology. Now can we really wish that the evangelic 
records had been so exempted from the operation of 
ordinary causes as would have been requisite for 
excluding every diversity ? Are we willing that these, 
the most important of all historical compositions, 
should forfeit the special characteristics that mark 
them as original and genuine w^ritings, for the sake of 
our being saved the infirm disquietudes of a supersti- 
tious temper? Those who will, with a blind and 
perilous pertinacity, rest their belief upon a verbal 
exactitude, meet a proper rebuke when they find that 
evangelists and apostles, with the freedom that is 
natural to truth and honesty, are negligent of matters 
that in no way affect the vast affairs committed to 
their trust. — If critics are sometimes frivolous, the 
Apostles were no trifiers. 

Who — or who that understands and respects the 
laws of testimony, does not gladly turn from secondary 
evidence, though more methodical and perspicuous, 
to original evidence, even though charged, as it almost 
ahvaj^s is when genuine, with incompleteness in the 
details, with apparent inconsistencies, and with a hun- 
dred unexplained allusions ? The compiler of history 
is an Interpreter of the story : not so the contem- 
porary and original narrator of facts, who seldom or 
never turns aside from the vivid objects that fill his 
mind, to provide for the ignorance, or to prevent the 
cavils of posterity. Unless we be slaves of supersti- 
tion, we shall then hail with pleasure those very im- 
perfections (imperfections they are not) which mark 
the canonical books — historical, didactic, and epistola- 
tory, as unquestionably genuine. Thankfully shall we 



OF THE SYMBOL. 249 

embrace those obscurities which are the seal of Truth. 
Deprived of its difficulties, every well informed mind 
would be staggered in admitting the Bible to be what 
it professes. 

And yet from this distinctive glory of the documents 
of our religion are drawn, by the superstition and the 
overweening dogmatism of zealots, endless occasions 
of strife. That abrupt form which belongs to original 
evidence, is a rock whereon wranglers of every age 
have split. Some usage — some circumstance or cere- 
monial, infinitely trivial, but which a compiler of his- 
tory might probably have supplied or explained, is 
left open to conjecture in the apostolic record. Alas 
the lamentable omission ! Why did the inspired 
writers drudge us the single decisive particle which 
must have excluded doubt ? So does the zealot repine 
in secret over the sacred page. But in public he 
loudly denies any such deficiency of evidence in refer- 
ence to the disputed point. — Among his followers, and 
in presence of the simple, he becomes hoarse in pro- 
testing the demonstrable certainty of his assumptions. 
- — Language, he assures us, has no means left for mak- 
ing plainer than it is, what was the apostolic usage in 
this matter ! 

A signal advantage it is that the Scriptures (of the 
New Testament especially) have traversed the wide 
and perilous w^aters of Time, not on one keel only, 
but a thousand. No ancient text has been so abun- 
dantly secured from important corruption as the text 
of the New Testament : in the present state of critical 
science, who entertains a doubt of its substantial in- 
tegrity ? But the consequence, the inevitable conse- 
quence of this multifarious transmission of copies has 
been the origination of innumerable verbal variations. 
Here again the superstition which dotes upon jots and 
tittles, is broken in upon. Heaven has treated us as 
Men ; and it supposes that we shall prefer what is 
truly valuable to what is trivial. We receive a most 
important confirmation of our faith ; but are denied 



250 FANATICISM 

the fond and idle satisfaction of possessing a Text for 
every particle of which, and for the position of everj^ 
■syllable and letter, Divine authority might be chal- 
lenged. Are we still disquieted and discontented ? It is 
manifest then that our estimate of what is desirable 
differs widely from that of the Author of Revelation^ 
He has bestowed upon us the better and the greater 
advantage ; we fretfully demand the less. 

Entertainment (and instruction too) might be drawn 
from an exhibition of certain instances in which, if we 
had actually possessed fewer means of information 
than we do, we might have pronounced decisively 
upon points that are made questionable by the addi- 
tional evidence. — If one apostle only had spoken, we 
should have been free to dogmatize stoutly ; but two 
have glanced at the matter ; and we are plunged into 
doubt ! Sometimes, as we have seen, the sacred 
writers say too little ; and anon too much ! The very 
copiousness of our means of knowledge deducts in 
such cases from our certainty ; that is to say, it dis- 
turbs the presumption of ignorance, and baffles the 
arrogance of bigotry. Are there those — one might 
almost believe it from their temper, who so love dark- 
ness rather than light, that they would willingly sur- 
render the three testimonies, or the five, which 
bear upon a controversy, so that they might, with un- 
rebuked fervour, assume and assert their factious 
opinion ? 

While it is certain that the Scriptures will, like all 
other rational compositions, convey their principal 
purport to every ingenuous mind, it is not less certain 
that these books, in common with other remains of 
ancient literature, must present thousands and tens of 
thousands of questionable points, critical, historical, or 
dogmatic. On this ground industry and erudition find 
their field ; and what labour can be more noble or 
more worthy than that of endeavouring to fix or to 
elucidate the sense of writings in which (beside their 
unparalleled merits as human compositions) are im- 



OF THE SYMBOL. 251 

bedded the inexhaustible treasures of heavenly wisdom ! 
How honourable are our modern Christian Rabbis 
employed in bringing to light, from day to day, some 
hitherto neglected particle of the " true riches ; " and 
how thankfully should we — the unlearned, receive 
these products of the diligence of our Teachers ! One 
might properly notice here the beneficent provision 
made for perpetually supplying new matter of instruc- 
tion to the Biblical teacher, so that the zest and expec- 
tation of the taught need never become languid. 
Sacred Science, in all its departments, having been 
diffused miscellaneously through the substance of a 
volume so large as the Bible — and an ancient volume 
too, the time will perhaps never come (certainly it has 
tiot yet come) in which it might be said that the sense 
of every portion has been determined. — All would be 
well if the simple principle could be remembered— 
That although the perfection of knowledge in matters 
of religion is an object of the most v.orthy ambition to 
every Christian for himself, something immensely less 
than the perfection of religious knowledge is all we are 
entitled to demand from others as the condition of 
holding with them Christian fellowship. 

The vexatious question of Terms of Communion 
presents one of those instances — and there are many 
such, in which, while formidable difficulties attach to 
the Theory of the affair, none whatever, or none that 
are serious, are found (unless created) to belong to the 
Practical operation. Science often stands embar- 
rassed, where Art moves on at ease. Science is in- 
deed the proper mistress of Art ; nevertheless she 
should have discretion enough to be vvilling to receive 
lessons of homely dexterity from her menial. Men of 
speculation are always splitting upon the reefs in these 
shallows. Presuming that the Abstract is always purer, 
and of more avail than the Concrete, they reform — 
not for the better, but the worse ; and, impatient of 
ideal faults, plunge themselves and others into real and 
fatal perplexities. How often does the unthinking 



252 FANATICISM 

artisan employ simple expedients which the philosopher 
could never have taught him ; and actually carries his 
work triumphantly through theoretic impossibilities, 
and how often, in the business of government, does 
common sense, with ancient usage as its guardian, 
prove itself a vastly better mistress of affairs, than 
abstruse calculation. 

A Consistory of Divines might spend a century in 
digesting, first a profession of faith, and then a code 
of morals and a rule of discipline, such as should stand 
as a universal law of Church communion. In the 
mean time a Christian society fraught with the vital 
principle of piety, and faithful to itself, and to its trust, 
far from awaiting impatiently the result of the confe- 
rence, might rather hail demur after demur, and fer- 
vently hope that the sittings of this Sanhedrim of 
Christendom might be protracted to the consummation 
of all things. Nothing that is truly important need be 
foregone until the creed and code should be brought 
to perfection ; — nothing that we need sigh for would 
be conferred upon us by the boon when at length it 
should be granted. 

The question — How may the Church be preserved 
from desecration? — if propounded in cases where 
nothing exists that is indeed holy — nothing but the 
rites and semblances of Christianity, is one which may 
well be reserved for an idle day. And no such ques- 
tion need be discussed at all where the religion of the 
New Testament — its faith, and its morality, actually 
subsist. 

The distinction between Christians and others is 
obvious — or obvious enough for the practical purposes 
of ecclesiastical government, if looked at in the con- 
crete, and under the daylight of common sense ; but 
it quite eludes research if submitted to analysis. The 
living are never much at a loss in recognizing the liv- 
ing ; and no artificial process will avail to enable the 
dead to exercise any such discriminative office. Is it 
demanded to frame a creed and a rule by the due 



OF THE SYMBOL. 253 

application of which secular men — frivolous and per- 
functory, shall be able to keep charge of the fold of 
Christ, and to open and shut the doors of the Church ? 
Absurd problem ! Idle endeavour ! The Church 
wants no such rule, and needs no such guardianship ; 
and a better employment may easily be found than 
that of setting a watch and putting a seal at the mouth 
of a Sepulchre ! 

The duty of those, whether they be the few or the 
many, to whose hands are entrusted ecclesiastical 
powers, is not that of a Rhadamanthus. Responsibility 
does not stretch beyond natural powers, and it is quite 
certain that men have no power to search each other's 
bosoms ; nor should they think themselves charged 
with any such endeavour. The pretender and the 
hypocrite belong always to the Divine Jurisdiction ; 
the Church will be asked to give ao account of them 
so long as they successfully conceal the fatal fact of 
their insincerity. The exceptive case of the hypocrite 
therefore excluded, not a shadow of difficulty — of 
practical difficulty, attends the discharge of Church 
guardianship. Let but a community, whether more 
or less extended in its sphere, be pure in manners — 
Pure, not sanctimonious ; let the Scriptures be uni- 
versally and devoutly read by its private members, 
and honestly expounded by its teachers ; and in this 
case it will be very little annoyed by the intrusion 
either of heretical or licentious candidates. A Church 
of this order offers nothing which such persons are 
ambitious to possess: — they will stand aloof. Tests 
will be superseded ; and the rod of discipline brought 
out only on the rarest occasions. 

It is the heat of controversy between sect and sect, 
that ordinarily generates the malevolence which 
(according to our definition) is essential to Fanaticism, 
and which distinguishes it from Enthusiasm. Yet 
there are cases where, without this extrinsic excite- 
ment, modes of opinion such as must be deemed 
extravagant, have assumed a gloomy and irritated 

23 



254 FANATICISM 

aspect. Instances of this sort have of late abounded^ 
and some reference to them seems proper. 

A singular revolution has marked the progress of 
religious sentiment among us within the last few years; 
and it is this, that while the tendency to admit enthu- 
siastic or fanatical sentiments belonged, till of late, 
almost exclusively to the lower and uneducated classes, 
it has recently deserted the quarters of poverty and 
ignorance, and taken hold of those who are clothed in 
purple, and frequent palaces. The Fanaticism of 
Want, and the Fanaticism of Plenty, though identical 
in substance, naturally differ much in form. The 
characteristics of each are worthy of notice. 

We know and think far too little of the feelings 
that are working in the bosoms of the abject and 
wretched poor : if we knew and thought more on this 
subject we should look with dread and wonder at the 
placid surface which, in common, the social mass 
exhibits. The personal endurance of famine, cold, 
and discomfort, from day to day, and the worse an- 
guish of seeing these evils endured by children, breeds 
a feeling which, did it but get vent, would heave the 
firmest political edifices from their foundations : — but 
the writhings of tortured hearts are repressed, diverted, 
and only on rare occasions burst forth in tumultuous 
acts. With many, indeed, all sentiment and moral 
consciousness gives way under the pressure of woe ; 
or is dissipated by debauchery : — the soul sinks even 
below the level of the wretchedness of the body: 
hope, the spring of life, long ago took her flight, and 
is totally forgotten : every ember of joy and virtue is 
quenched. 

But with some of the Pariah class (numerous in 
every community) enough of the remembrance of 
hope survives to impart sensitiveness to despair. The 
poor man, though he feels every day that he has 
given ground a little in his combat with Want, and 
must renew the strife to-morrow with wasted strength, 
and from a worse position, and although, when he 



OF THE SYMBOL. 255 

throws himself on his pallet, he knows that the Misery 
that haunts his hut does not sleep while he sleeps, but 
will be busy from the evening till the morning, in sap- 
ping the broken fabric of his comfort ; — although he 
knows and feels this, yet the faint conception of a hap- 
pier lot still haunts him, and he asks — Might not I also 
be blessed ? If he does not distinctly expect a reverse 
of his doom, he still meditates the abstract possibility 
of an amended condition. — He is like the shipwrecked 
mariner who takes his seat day after day on the 
highest point of his rocky prison, and from sun-rise to 
sun-set, peruses the horizon, not certain but what a 
sail may appear, and may make toward the islet of 
his despair. Such things (let us believe it) are felt 
and borne by myriads near us, even %Yhiie we are gaily 
gliding from scene to scene of gain or festivity ! 

It is upon elements like these that political agitations 
work ; and our amazement should be, not that once 
and again in the course of years tumult and outrage 
break forth ; but rather that the public peace is so 
seldom violated ; and that w^hen disturbed, any bounds 
are set to the vindictive passions of the million who 
have so long suffered in silence. 

Experience has abundantly proved, even to the 
conviction of irreligious statesmen, that the influence 
of religious motives upon the lowest rank — taken at 
large, is decisively favourable to public order, and is 
the most powerful prop of civil government. None 
now call this capital political truth in question, but 
those — the few, whose enormous usurpations are of a 
kind that can be secured only by imposing brutalizing 
degradations upon the helot class. — None now deny 
this first axiom of political science— that religion is the 
bond of peace ; none deny it, we say, but the Planter 
and his Patron. 

The cases are very rare in w^hich a just and patri- 
otic government (or even a despotic one) might not 
calculate its security by the rule of the amount of 
religion among the labouring population of the country. 



256 FANATICISM 

There have been momentary exceptions; but they 
are quite intelligible, and when properly understood 
confirm the rule which makes it the interest and duty, 
as well of the legislative as of the administrative 
powers, to maintain, and to extend, and to invigorate, 
by all proper means, the Public Religion. 

The Fanaticism of poverty, which only under very 
unusual provocations takes a political turn, or threatens 
civil institutions, somewhat more frequently offers 
itself to view within its proper circle of religious senti- 
ment. The Gospel is the chartered patrimony of the 
poor; and to affirm that the motives of religion, as 
they bear upon the cares, privations, and contempt of 
a low condition, ordinarily pass into a malign state, 
would be the same thing as to deny the divine origin 
of this Gospel. The contrary is most decisively the 
fact. The partial evil has existence only when the 
theology that is promulgated among the people is of a 
murky and arrogant kind ; — when one set of ideas 
singh^, and those the least benign, is presented to the 
mind of the people ; and when, either by abtruse 
dogmas, or by rigid and repulsive usages — by the 
monotonous assertion of mysterious exclusive privilege, 
and by a stern, scrupulous, and sanctimonious dis- 
cipline—a discipline more careful of faith than of 
morals — it is only by such means, that the melancholy 
impatience belonging to social degradation and distress, 
gives a dark colour to the poor man's piety. 

Those will be at no loss in verifying or in rebutting 
our present allegation, who have been personally con- 
versant with the religious sentiments of the lower 
classes in certain departments of our ecclesiastical 
commonwealth. To such might be recommended an 
inquiry of this sort, namely — How far those forms of 
doctrine among us which tend to favour malign spiri- 
tual arrogance, and which confessedly are of ambigu- 
ous moral tendency, and how far certain strait and 
abhorrent rules of communion, and how far an exces- 
sive leaning to the democratic principle in the manage- 



OF THE SYMBOL. 257 

ment of Church affairs — a leaning wholly incompatible 
with pastoral independence, how far these evils — if 
they amj where exist, savour of what may be termed 
plebeian Fanaticism. 

But the favourites of Fortune, as well as her out- 
casts, have sometimes their Fanaticism: there is a 
sleek and well-bred religious delirium, as well as one 
that is rude and squalid. — 

— Christianity rarely affects the opulent and the 
noble, except during disastrous epochs ; or in those 
gloomy hours of a nation's history ,when all things earth- 
ly are in jeopardy. It would seem as if nothing less than 
the most vehement agitations could be enough to dispel 
the illusions that beset luxury and honour. Be this as 
it may, the coincidence of causes deserves to be taken 
account of which, in such seasons of fear and tumult, 
affords to the Christian of elevated rank a necessary 
counterpoise for his religious emotions, and tends to 
impart soberness to his piety. This indispensable 
counterpoise is furnished to Christians of lower station 
by the cares and labours of vulgar life. But the perils 
and vicissitudes of a revolutionary era bring home to 
the patrician orders a sense of the precariousness of 
earthly-good such as, during the tranquil flow of events, 
they are hardly ever conscious of. At these times a 
difficult part is to be performed, and dangerous meas- 
ures are often to be attempted, which fully engage 
every energy of the soul. It is then that public per- 
sons are thrown upon their principles, are compelled 
to look to the ultimate reasons of their conduct : and 
are in fact taught certain severe lessons of virtue, such 
as are never dreamed of in the summer seasons of the 
world's affairs. It is at such times that religious sen- 
timents, if they exist at all in the bosoms of the great, 
are brought into act, and are, by that means, preserved 
from exaggeration. 

This general order of things being kept in view, we 
may the more readily understand the somewhat singu- 
lar appearance which serious piety has assumed of 

23* 



258 FANATICISM 

late in a portion of the upper classes of England. 
The time we have lived through has indeed been a 
season of momentous change, and has furnished excite- 
ments of the most unusual kind. And yet, to the peo- 
ple of the British Islands, the throes of the world and 
the sanguinary convulsions of the nations, have offered 
a Spectacle, rather than an arena of action and trial. 
During a full forty years, the Enghsh have stood 
crowding their cliifs in mute astonishment, and have 
gazed upon the distant prospect of blazing palaces, or 
demolished thrones — of embattled fields, or of cities 
deluged by civil feud ; — they have caught the mutter- 
ing thunders of war and revolution ; but still have 
been able to turn the eye homev*^ard, and have seen 
the smilingserenity of order and plenty spread over all 
their land. We have indeed entertained momentary 
alarms, and have groaned under burdens ; but have 
hardly been called to meet the brunt of danger : — the 
stress of affairs has not lain upon us, so as to engage 
the higher virtues. 

The excitements of an era of commotion have been 
felt ;~yet apart from its proper correctives. The 
spread of religious feeling among the rich and noble 
may fairly be attributed (in measure) to the salutary 
impression v/hich the magnitude and portentous aspect 
of events has made upon all minds. Yet it has been 
an impression without a conflict — an awe, but not an 
exercise. There has been no arduous part to perform, 
no sacrifice to make, no privation to be endured. All 
this while the religious noble have reclined upon a 
couch as soft as that of the irreligious noble ; — the 
silken banner of their ease has floated in a summer's 
sky: — they have fared as daintily, and have been 
served as sumptuously, as if their portion were all in 
this world: — they have undulated from theatre to 
theatre of pious entertainment, and have met accla- 
mations and smiles ; — yet nothing has compelled them 
to act or to suffer like men. 

There can be little room then for surprise if the 



OP THE SYMBOL. 259 

result of this peculiar conjunction of influences has 
been to give play to exorbitances of opinion, and 
absurdities of conduct, among those of the rich and 
noble who have admitted religious impressisns. Some, 
we cannot doubt, the ferment of whose piety has 
brought our Christianity into contempt, would have 
honoured their profession of it by exhibiting the 
courage and devotion of confessors, had public events 
been of a kind to lead them into any such arduous 
sphere of action : these persons have been fain to 
yearn for miracles in easy times, that offer no crowns 
of martyrdom. 

Religious sentiments in a highly excited state, and 
not counterpoised by the vulgar cares and sorrows of 
humble life — not taught common sense by common 
occasions, is little likely to stop short at mere enthu- 
siam : — the fervour almost of necessity becomes fanat- 
ical. The progress of the feelings in such cases is not 
difficult to be divined. — That sensitiveness to public 
opinion, and that nice regard to personal reputation, 
and that keen consciousness of ridicule, which belong 
to the upper classes, and upon which their morality 
is chiefly founded, tend, in the instance of the pious 
oligarch, to generate vivid resentments when he feels 
that, having over-stepped the boundaries of good sense 
and sobriety, he has drawn upon himself the public 
laugh. The intolerable glance of scorn from his peers, 
to which he has found himself exposed, must be — not 
retorted indeed — not avenged ; but yet returned in 
some manner compatible with religious ideas. It is 
at this very point of commuted revenge that fanati- 
cism takes its rise. Interpretations the most excessive, 
expectations the most dire, comminations the most 
terrible, and a line of conduct arrogantly absurd, set 
wounded patrician pride again upon its due elevation 
— repair the damage it has sustained ; and surround it 
with a hedge of thorns. 

If (national prejudice apart) it may be said that the 
English character possesses a peculiar nobleness ; and 



2G0 FANATICISM 

if it be true that the Enghsh aristocracy stands fam- 
most as by emphasis the aristocracy of Europe ; and 
if moreover it may be beheved that Christianity has a 
stronger hold of the Enghsh than of any otlier people, 
may not a time reasonably be looked for, when the 
special excellences of the national character, illustrated 
by rank and high culture, shall admit (without taint of 
fanaticism) the elevating influence of unfeigned piety, 
and so shall exhibit to the world, under the very fairest 
and the brightest forms, the true magnanimity of 
virtue ! 

To what extent the advance of Christianity among 
the nations has been obstructed by the absurd or the 
hostile form into which it has been thrown by its pro- 
fessors, none can presume to determine. None 
knov/ how many perplexed and hesitating minds, dis- 
tracted with doubts, have received their final and fatal 
shock from the spectacle of folly, pride, and strife 
which the Church has exhibited. — None can calculate 
w^hat might have been achieved by the zeal and energy 
that have been consumed in dissensions, or quashed by 
despotism. Much less can any mortal dare to surmise 
how far the outraged clemency of heaven has, by these 
same means, been averted altogether from the theatre 
of human affairs, so that blessings have been withheld 
— the efficacious influence denied, and the world 
abandoned through long ages, to its melancholy course 
of superstition and of crime ! 

The dependency of cause upon cause in the vast 
and occult machinery of the moral system, lies far be- 
yond the reach of human curiosity. That day must 
be waited for which is to reveal the springs of the 
movements that now meet the eye, and perplex our 
meditations. But might not a time come when those 
who readily confess themselves to sustain as Christians, 
a responsibility toward the world at large, and who 
are even forward in claiming their several shares of 
this responsibility — when such, pausing a moment on 
their course of zealous enterprise, shall, with an ingen- 



OP THE SYMBOL. 261 

nous dread of meeting at last the Divine reproof in- 
stead of approval, set themselves to inquire whether 
the Christianity they are sending from land to land 
is not loaded with some fatal disparagement, such as 
forbids its wide extension ? 

But it is asked — Who is competent, or who com- 
mands the means of regenerating our ecclesiastical 
existence ? Where rests a blame, of which no man 
has the power to rid himself? The answer to such an 
inquiry is not difficult ; for the individual culpability 
which rests upon Christians, living under a corrupted 
or perverted state of things, is that of resisting the 
appeals of common sense. — The personal guilt is that 
of harbouring fond predilections, and of jealousy 
quashing any course of inquiry that is foreseen as 
likely to bring sectarian interests into jeopardy. The 
personal blame is of the very same kind that attaches 
to the maintenance of other species of vicious infatua- 
tion. If the actual amount of this criminality be 
small in the instance of the untaught and the unthink- 
ing multitude, it reaches a height we will not estimate, 
with the few whose duty it is to care for, and lead the 
many. Thus it has been in every age. — Evils griev- 
ous in themselves, and frightful in their ultimate con- 
sequences, have been palliated by those who should 
have checked them ; — have been admired, or have 
been cloaked ; have been trumpeted, or have been 
excused ; but never honestly and unsparingly dealt 
with. 

No principle of morals can be more unsound than 
that which would excuse a man from guilt who cares 
not to rid himself of prejudices or of scruples that are 
ruinous to his fellows. If we do not owe the cultiva- 
tion of common sense to ourselves, we assuredly owe 
it to those around us. No man can play the fool with- 
out peril to his neighbours ; and when the Christian 
does so, he flings perdition on every side of him. 

Those questions of ecclesiastical polity (if such 
there be) which involve real difficulties, and which 



262 FANATICISM 

wise men might hesitate to touch — uncertain and com- 
plicated as are all human affairs, may well be reserved 
until other points have been disposed of that demand 
nothing but the putting in force of the plainest prin- 
ciples of reason and piety. Who shall say how much 
light would suddenly come in upon the obscurer 
matters, if once the simpler were taken out of the 
way? 

To adduce the specific instances, and to deal with 
them equitably, would consist neither with the limits 
nor the purpose of this volume, it is principles only 
we have to do with ; and in the establishment of gene- 
ral truths, must still adhere to the rule of drawing ex- 
amples from the remotest quarters. In closing then 
this Section, let a single instance, illustrative of the 
purport of it, be glanced at. 

The ancient Church might stand excused from the 
blame of defending, with too much acrimony, the great 
elements of Christian faith, assailed as they were by a 
hundred heresies, audacious and absurd ; and let in- 
dulgence be afforded in relation to those divisions in 
matters of discipline which might fairly perplex honest 
minds. We look now to instances of that sort which 
entailed extreme contempt upon Christianity, and 
sullied all its glory, for the sake of pertinacious scruples 
ineffably trivial. If the case adduced be thought alto- 
gether without parallel in modern times, let it be 
rejected as impertinent. 

Be it imagined that the accomplished author of the- 
treatise "on the Sublime," hitherto imperfectly inform- 
ed of the Christian doctrine, and doubtful of its claims, 
had at length resolved to obtain a more intimate ac- 
quaintance with a religion which was then spreading 
through all parts of the world, and spreading in defiance 
of imperial edicts and popular fury. The philosophic 
Longinus has learned in a vague manner that the 
Christians profess the hope of a glorious immortality — 
that they hold elevated opinions concerning the Divine 
Mature, and that they treat with derision the idle my- 



'?!•' 



I 



OF THE SYMBOL. 263 

thologies and immoral superstitions of all nations ;^ 
and he is told that this system is affirmed to have been 
imparted immediately from God. He expects then 
that whether the alleged revelation be true or false, it 
will offer nothing but what is momentous and simply 
great : — he is justified in expecting nothing else. While 
he yet revolves his purpose of inquiry, there falls by 
chance into his hands an epistle addressed by a dis- 
tinguished contemporary — a Christian bishop, to a 
colleague. The writer, known to him already by 
common fame, stands entitled on every ground to 
respect. Head of the Alexandrian Church, and there- 
fore second to few or none in official importance, a 
man of extensive learning too — no barbarian ; but 
versed, like himself, in the poets, orators, and philos- 
ophers of Greece : — a man of tried integrity, who 
had endured severe sufferings and banishment in de- 
fence of his faith ; a man moreover of settled mode- 
ration, and calm judgment, one who was appealed to 

* Juvenal and Lucian had led the way in the work which the 
Christian writers achieved, of consigning the Grecian mythology to 
contempt. Popular. veneration toward the gods had almost entirely 
been loosened by railleries which drew their irresistible force from 
common sense. When the Christians brought the heavy arms of pure 
truth to bear upon these decayed absurdities, the victory could not be 
long doubtful. The Church at this time commanded the services of 
many writers qualified by vigorous talents, wit, and extensive learning, 
for the part assigned them. Some of the pieces then produced with 
the design of exposing polytheism to merited contempt, are of the 
highest merit. — Such for example as — The admirable and erudite 
work of Athenagoras, Legatio pro Clirislianis, addressed to tHe An- 
tonines : — The Oratio ad Groscos of Tatian : — The caustic Irrisio 
Philos. Gentil. of Hermias, which, though aimed at the philosophic 
sects, went also to undermine the popular superstitions. — Justin 
Martyr claims a distinguished place in the list, especially on account 
of his excellent Paroenetic to the Greeks. The tkdmonilio ad Grcecos 
of the learned Clemens Alexandrinus is of great value, and contains 
a fund of various erudition. Origen, Contra Celsum, takes his part 
in the same labour. TertuUian mightily assails the folly and impurity 
of the popular worship ; and not least is the Odavius of Minuciua 
Felix. These, and other erudite and eloquent labours of the early 
church, which no doubt highly conduced to the ultimate triumph of 
the Gospel throughout the empire, merit more than admiration — 

PERUSAL, 



264 FANATICISM 

by all parties as umpire. — Such was Dionysius of 
Alexandria ; — and as such, not improbably, might he 
have been known to his contemporary, Longinus.* 

If then indeed Christianity be a sublime doctrine, if 
it be a revelation of future life ; if it be a philosophy 
imparted by God himself to man, it must dignify its 
adherents, it must imbue them with a grave and manly 
reason, it must exempt them from the servile and 
childish superstitions that enslave the vulgar. Fraughf 
with these proper anticipations, the philosophic inqui- 
rer opens the letter of the Alexandrian prelate.f Al- 
though not qualified justly to estimate those expressions 
of meekness and simplicity which present themselves 
on the face of it — a style so unlike that of the schools, 
his candour is conciliated by the modesty of a man 
whose station might have rendered him arrogant. J 

" Dionysius to Basilides, my beloved son, and bro- 
ther, and colleague in the Lord — greeting. — You WTOte 
1o me, my faithful and learned son, concerning the 
hour at which fasting should cease in celebrating the 
Paschal solemnity. You report that certain of the 
fraternity (of Pentapolis) affirm that the fast should 
end, and our rejoicings commence, at the moment of 
cock-crowing ; while others say it should be from the 
evening. The brethren of Rome, as the former 

* As Principal of the Catechetical School of Alexandria, Dionysins 
had early diffused his reputation very widely. He was esteemed one 
of the most distinguished of Origen's pupils. Eusebius, Eccles. HisL 
I. vi. c. 35—40. 

f The canonic epistle of Dionysius, quoted above, is of unques- 
tioned authenticity. It is accessible to the reader in Routh's Reliquia 
Sacroe, Vol. II. 

I Dionysius, after giving advices on sundry points of discipline, 
then deemed important, thus concludes — *' In these things (concern- 
ing which, to do us honour, not because you are yourself unable to 
judge, you have propounded questions) I advance my opinion, not as 
Master biS'a,!JH,aXo<;, but with all simplicity, and as it is becoming that 
we should, on terms of mutuahty, discuss any subject of debate. 
Concerning this my opinion you, learned son, when you have 
considered it, will write to me again, either approving my decision, 
or proposing a better." How well, had this style been copied by 
Church dignitaries! 



OF THE SYMBOL. 265 

assert, are accustomed to await the crowing of the cock : 
whereas, on our part, as you say, an earlier hour is 
observed. Your desire is to ascertain with precision 
the very jnot?ient, and to fix decisively the proper hour ; 
but to do so is a difficult and uncertain thing. All are 
indeed perfectly agreed on this one point — That, from 
the instant of our Lord's resurrection, festivity and glad- 
ness should commence ; and that, on the other hand, 
fasting and humiliation of spirit are proper in the pre- 
ceding time. But yourself, in your epistle — versed as 
you are in the divine evangelic records, have shewn 
that nothing is to be certainly gathered from the Gos- 
pels concerning the hour of the resurrection. The 
Evangelists, in their several modes of narrating the 
event, declare that all who, at different times, visited 
the sepulchre, found the Lord already risen. Yet we 
assume that they neither disagree, nor oppose each 
other as to the fact ; and inasmuch as the point has 
become the subject of controversy, as if there were a 
want of consistency among the Evangelists, let us whh 
due humility and caution endeavour to trace out their 
real agreement." 

Then follows a careful examination of the evidence, 
in concluding which the good bishop manifestly en- 
deavours so to pronounce upon the perplexing matter 
as should corroborate strict and godly disciphne, with- 
out absolutely precluding indulgence toward the feeble, 
or even the lax. " Those," says he, " w^ho, being pres- 
ently wearied, hasten to break their fast, even before 
midnight, we aiust blame as negligent and incontinent. 
It is not a little, according to the adage, to fall short 
in the course, by a little. But on the contrary, those 
who hold out until the fourth watch of tlie night, we 
deem to be noble and strenuous. Yet will we not 
angrily assail* any w^ho, either from want of strength, 
or of fixed resolution, seek refreshment sooner. 

These unquestionably are the tones of moderation 

24 



266 FANATICISM 

and of wisdom ; the style well becomes the Christian 
pastor and the bishop. But what was the controversy 
itself? And what impression must the anxious agita- 
tion of questions such as these have made upon men 
of enlarged understanding, who looked at the new 
religion from a distance, and with cold curiosity ? To 
return for a moment to our supposition ; — must we 
not regard Longinus as almost excused, if he had cast 
away the epistle of Dionysius with indignant scorn, 
and have said — " Is this your vaunted Christianity ? 
Is it to maintain this system of servile frivolity that 
you die at the stake ? Do you ask me to become a 
Christian ? as well turn Jew : — and how much better 
remain philosopher !'' 

The jfault in the instance we have adduced was not 
that of a want of temper ; for we must admire the 
mild and conciliatory tone of the writer, vested as he 
was with authority : nor was it a fault to endeavour to 
ascertain (if the means of doing so had been at hand) 
a circumstance of an event beyond all others worthy 
of earnest regard. But the error — and a fatal error 
in its consequences, was that of admitting religious 
importance to attach to a particular which confessedly 
lay beyond the range of revelation, and had been made 
no part of Christian duty. Not only was the point ab- 
stractedly trivial, but it was the subject of no injunc- 
tion. How could it be imagined, unless through a 
circuit of false assumptions, that conscience was im- 
plicated in an observance concerning which, not only 
was there no explicit command, but no certain evi- 
dence bearing upon the fact whereon the observance 
rested ? Granting the paschal solemnities to have 
been acceptable religious services, and granting it to 
have been a pious act to fast in commemoration of the 
Lord's death and burial, and to celebrate his return to 
life with hymns, illuminations, and other festivities, yet, 
as by the acknowledgment of all, except zealots, the 
precise moment in which sorrow was turned into glad- 
ness could not be ascertained, and must remain mere 



OF THE SYMBOL. 267 

matter of surmise, was it not an egregious violation of 
common sense to make such a point the subject of 
anxious controversy, and the occasion of ecclesiastical 
disunion ? 

Dionysius, it is true, w^rites and decides much more 
like a Christian than like a supercilious dignitary, and 
if all had been such as himself, the foolish disagree- 
ment must soon have been forgotten. But what was 
likely to happen in the distracted parish of Basilides ? 
A few perhaps, the lovers of peace, would hail with 
joy the patriarchal decision. Not so the fervent and 
the dogmatic ; not so those whose piety meant nothing 
apart from virulence. Such — and are there not such 
in every community ? — would listen to the canonic 
letter, when publicly read in the Church, with clouded 
visages ; they would exchange among themselves 
glances of insolent dissent ; they would cluster about 
the church doors after the assembly had broke up, 
would gather to themselves open-mouthed hearers, 
would inveigh against the easiness and worldly indif- 
ference of men in high station ; they would impeach 
the motives and the piety, first of the Alexandrian 
patriarch, and then of his surrogate — their own pastor. 
The intrinsic merits of the question would be hotly 
agitated, and its vital importance be insisted upon : 
the consciences of the feeble and the scrupulous, of 
women and slaves, would be entangled and placed at 
the disposal of the despotic leaders of the sect. These 
leaders, committed to a course of open opposition, 
would find it necessary to have recourse to every 
means of exaggeration and irritation tending to sustain 
the zeal of their adherents. A breach with the Church 
would be deemed indispensable for securing the rights 
of conscience : fellowship must be refused, first with 
the general body of believers ; next with those who, 
though holding mainly with themselves in the question 
at issue, yet hesitated to adjudge Christendom entire 
to perdition on account of its error in this single point. 
Lastly (if indeed the absurdity of intolerance ever 



268 FANATICISM OF THE SYMBOL. 

reaches an ultimate stage) lastly, all correspondence 
must be cut off with whoever would not denounce the 
moderate middle men above named. In the end, the 
little flaming nucleus of immaculate rigidity, fasting 
till broad day of Easter Sunday, and blessing itself in 
the straitness of its circle, would be able to look down 
upon all the vvorid, and upon all the church, as wrong 
and lost 1 Meanwhile the amiable Dionysius grieves, 
and prays too for the contumacious band. But should 
he not remember that the faction drew its consequence 
from his own error in granting, for a moment, that 
Christian duty and conscience could be at all con- 
cerned in a controversy of this frivolous sort ? Should 
he not have known that if men are encouraged by 
persons of sense and authority to attach importance 
to idle scrupulosities, they will not fail to forget solid 
morality, as well as to spurn meekness and love ? 

The follies of one age differ from those of another 
in names only. Let those boast of the intelligence of 
the nineteenth century, who think it furnishes no par- 
allels to the infatuations of the third. It is often 
anxiously asked — What hinders the progress of the 
Gospel in a country like our own, and in an age of 
liberty and knowledge ? It might be quite enough to 
reply, that the hinderance is drawn from the form of 
impertinent and childish discord which has been 
thrown over it by some of its most devoted adherents. 
If then our Christianity does not triumph as it ought, 
we will not vex at the infidelity of Longinus ; but 
mourn the superstition of Dionysius. 



SECTION IX. 



THE RELIGION OF THE BIBLE NOT FANATICAL. 
(the old TESTAMENT.) 

The mind seeks refreshment in contemplating Truth, 
after conversino- long with the folHes and crimes that 
mark as well the rehgious as the civil history of 
nations. A tranquil dehght, a delight enhanced by 
contrast, is felt when we return to set foot upon that 
solid ground of reason and purity which the Scriptures 
open before us. How melancholy soever, or revolting 
may be the spectacle of human affairs, a happier pros- 
pect is within view. — In the religion of the Bible 
there is certainty — there is unsullied goodness — there 
is divinity. Let the inferences be what they may — 
and we should take care they are sound, which we 
feel compelled to draw from the general course of 
events, it remains always true that the writings of the 
prophets and apostles present a system of belief, an 
order of sentiments, and a rule of morals such as are 
altogether consistent with the highest conceptions we 
can form of the Divine attributes. The Bible is God's 
revelation : none doubt it who retain the integrity of 
the moral faculty, who command the powers of reason, 
an4 who are informed of what has been in every age 
the actual condition of human nature. The Scriptures 
are from Heaven. Yet we will not now assume this 
truth, but narrowly examine (on a single and peculiar 
line of argument) the proof of it. 

24* 



270 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

Let it then be premised that it is not by avoiding 
occasions of danger, but by efficiently providing 
against them, that the Scriptures lead man through the 
difficult paths of the spiritual world. The most critical 
positions which the human mind can occupy are freely 
entered upon by the writers of the Bible ; — all hazards 
are run, and a clear triumphant course is pursued 
through all. If an affirmation such as this be deemed 
loose or declamatory, and more easily advanced than 
substantiated, let strict attention be given to the his- 
toric facts and documents whence a conclusion should 
be drawn ; in entering upon this ground no favour is 
implored, no rigour of scrutiny is deprecated. We 
ask for what we may demand — a verdict according to 
the evidence. 

On all questions relating to the alleged practical in- 
fluence of opinions, the rational inquiry plainly is — 
Not what seems the tendency of single elements of the 
system ; — but in what manner are its various elements 
balanced and harmonized ? Who does not know that 
Effects are, in every case, whether physical or intel- 
lectual, as the combined causes which concur to pro- 
duce them ? If at any time certain ingredients of 
religious truth have been drawn apart, and grossly 
abused, to the injury of the parties themselves, and to 
the scandal of others, the fault is not in the inspired 
Book. The sacred writers require nothing short of a 
submission to that complete and duly-adjusted system 
of motives which they promulgate : and it would have 
been a virtual dereliction of their authority to have 
made provision against the misuse of those single 
principles which can produce no mischief so long as 
they are held in combination. 

Boldness — the boldness of simplicity is the style of 
the Bible from first to last. Nowhere does it exhibit 
that sort of circumspection which distinguishes the 
purblind and uncertain discretion of man. Man, if 
cautious at all, is overcautious, and must be so, be- 
cause he knows little of the remote relations of things. 



NOT FANATICAL. 271 

and almost nothing of their future consequences. 
Ahhough one event only shall actually occur, in a 
given case, five or ten that are possible must be pro- 
vided for. But the Divine Omniscience saves itself all 
such wasted anxieties, and takes a direct course to its 
proposed end ; an end it had foreseen from the begin- 
ning. A difference of the very same sort distin- 
guishes human and divine operations whenever 
brought into comparison. — The former abound with 
provisions and precautions against possible accidents ; 
but in the latter, provision is made only against actual 
and foreseen evils ; and therefore when examined on 
principles of human science, often seem — shall we say 
—unsafe and incomplete. 

To take the separate ingredients of religion as they 
may be gathered from the Jewish and Christian Scrip- 
tures, one might find in them, apart, every incitement 
of those perverted sentiments, which, in fact, through 
the course of ages, have borrovved a pretext from the 
•Bible. No conceivable method of conveying complex 
principles could afford security against such a misuse 
of the heavenly boon. If men will sever that which 
God has joined, nothing remains but that they should 
receive into their bosoms the fruit of their temerity. 
The inspired writers, as may be proved in the most 
convincing manner, were themselves no fanatics ; nor 
will their readers ever become such, while they admit 
that complement of motives which the theology of the 
Scriptures includes. 

We have said that the Bible does not avoid difficult 
positions, nor evade critical and delicate affirmations, 
as for example. — 

Neither the Prophets nor the Apostles, in the repre- 
sentations they make of the Divine Nature affect that 
vague and theoretic style which pleases philosophy. 
On the contrary, they advance without solicitude into 
the very midst of the most appalling conceptions of 
the Supreme Majesty. And instead of affirming what 
they have to affirm with an accompaniment of extenu- 



272 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

ations, apologies, and cautions, they employ language, 
pungent and vigorous in the highest degree, and leave 
the vi^hole force of their emphatic phrases to press, 
without relief, upon the imagination and consciences 
of men. Those very passages of terror which the 
Fanatic delights to rehearse, he may find, if he will 
subtract them from their places. Yes, and when he 
enters into controversy with men of an opposite tem- 
perament, who will admit nothing into their theology 
but what is lenient, he easily triumphs over them by 
adducing decisive examples of a sort which can never 
be reconciled with such effeminate opinions. The 
Divine Being, as made known to mankind by Moses, 
Samuel, David, Elijah, Isaiah, Ezekiel ; or by Christ 
himself, and Paul and James, is not the quiescent and 
complacent Power which Theists fondly paint. — 
Rather is He terrible in his anger, jealous of his honour, 
and not to be approached without fear. 

We find moreover, very prominently in the Holy 
Scriptures, that doctrine of the universal degeneracy 
of mankind, and of the consequent displacency of 
God, which waits only for misinterpretation and exag- 
eration, to become what the fanatic demands, as the 
second capital excitement of his malign and vindictive 
temper.* The human race, he will say, is fallen — is 
foul — is guilty : may it not then, ought it not to be 
religiously hated ? Is not man spiritually abominable ? 
Can any expressions of detestation — can any severities 
of treatment be deemed excessive or improper on tlie 
part of the few who, loyally taking side with God 
against the rebel race, would speak and act in a 
manner becoming the boldness of a true allegiance ? 
Thus, and with some appearance of reason too, may 
the fanatic justify his gloomy mood. 

To complete the apology which he might frame for 
the out-bursts of his arrogance, and for his factious 
proceedings, he will allege (and so will obtain posses- 
sion of his third^ excitementf) that the entire history 

* Page 58. f Page 60. 



NOT FANATICAL. 273 

and economy of Revelation turns upon the principle 
of special favours granted to nations, to families, and 
to individuals, vi^ho have been honoured and benefited 
by immense advantages, notwithstanding enormous 
delinquencies. In fact it is upon this very ground 
that fanatics of every age — Jewish, Mohammedan, 
and Christian, have taken their stand. 

Picked passages may thus be made to furnish all 
that is wanted to warrant the rancour and presump- 
tion of the malign religionist. But how poorly will 
he defend himself when the great and unalterable 
principles of biblical religion are duly brought together, 
and are made to bear in harmony upon the heart ! 
The effect then is altogether of an opposite kind ; so 
much soj that even the enemies of the Gospel have 
been compelled to confess that our Bible is the foun- 
tain of compassion, the rule of benignity, and the 
very doctrine of meekness. That such is indeed the 
fact, may be sustained first in the mode of a compre- 
hensive statement of principles ; and then in the 
method of a careful induction of specific instances. 
The importance of the subject wnll justify our pursu- 
ing, for a while, both these lines of proof 

We have then to make good, first on general 
grounds, the affirmation that the Religion of the Bible 
is not of fanatical tendency. 

When the delusions of a depraved self-esteem are 
thoroughly dispelled, so that moral and spiritual objects 
affect, as they ought the conscience of a man, then, 
what before acted as the excitement of spurious zeal, 
or as the occasion of malevolence, takes salutary pos- 
session of the mind, and produces the mild fruits of 
piety and charity. Thus, for example, if the awful 
justice of God be truly understood as the necessary 
condition of that purity which is essential to the Divine 
Nature, and as a mode only of Sovereign Benevo- 
lence, then an inference from this truth comes home 
with weight upon the personal consciousness of guilt ; 
and he who thus sees his own peril in the light of the 



274 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

divine justice, is thenceforth mainly occupied with 
those emotions of shame and fear, which are proper 
to a culprit. The wish to make a vindictive applica- 
tion of the same truth to others (though it be applica- 
ble) is forgotten, or becomes abhorrent to the soul. 
This surely is not a mere refinement, or an evasion of 
the difficulty. — If the fearful retributive energy of the 
Divine Character be a truth, and a prime truth of 
Scripture, upon whom does it bear? — Upon all trans- 
gressors, without exception, and therefore upon each 
singly. — "But I sm such,'^ says the now convicted 
man, "and to me God is terrible, inasmuch as He has 
the power and the determination to punish sin." The 
entire current of ideas is in this manner turned, when 
once a belief of personal danger has been thoroughly 
awakened ; and so it happens that the man who, yes- 
terday, was hurling thunderbolts at his fellows, and 
exulting in the displays of divine displeasure, may now 
be seen prostrate, as in the dust, and unmindful of 
every thing but his own peril. Nothing more is needed 
to bring about so great a change, but that the Divine 
attributes should be truly understood in the relation 
they bear to personal responsibility. 

Pursuing the same path, we come to the second 
excitement of religious malevolence, as before enu* 
merated ; that is to say — The universal corruption of 
human nature, and the actual guilt of all men. Bat 
is it true that this pravity is of a spiritual kind, and 
does it affect the depth of the human heart ? Then — 
a spiritual know^ledge of the doctrine implies a vivid 
and expanded consciousness of the fact, as the moral 
condition of the individual. To an enlightened con- 
science this personal knowledge of the evil bias of the 
heart, is nothing less than an interpretation, viva i;oce, 
of the Scripture doctrine of the corruption of human 
nature. Mankind at large is spiritually abominable in 
no other sense than that in which " I am. so ;" and a 
close and serious familiarity with the subject seldom 
fails to impart to each mind an impression, as if the 



NOT FANATICAL* 275 

corruption of the individual heart were more deep 
and deplorable than that of others. " If other men 
are objects of the divine displacency — I much more ;" 
such, whether in fact true or not, is the language (in 
very many cases) of genuine contrition. But this in- 
troversion of feeling places the dogma altogether on 
another footing than it might before have occupied. 
Will there remain in a bosom that entertains these 
emotions of shame and compunction any residue of 
arrogance or of malice towards the mass of mankind, 
because sharers in the same depravity ? Surely not. 
On the contrary, a tender sympathy, a patient forbear- 
ance, and the livehest zeal of benevolence are found 
to consist with the feeling of personal humiliation. — 
The fanatic, with his misanthropy and his scorn, is 
quite shut out. — He — infatuated man — knows nothing 
of himself, and therefore has no indulgence for others. 
Let the doctrine of the corruption of human nature 
be expounded as it may, or even in some sense exag- 
gerated, it will remain innoxious, so long as it thor- 
oughly penetrates the soul that receives it ; the prin- 
ciple becomes poisonous, only when thrown out and 
suffused. 

The constituent motives of genuine contrition seal 
the exclusion of arrogance from the heart of the peni- 
tent, even when a hope of the special favour of God 
is entertained with the utmost distinctness. If it be 
true, as the Scriptures afhrm, that this favour towards 
individuals is absolutely free — if it comes irrespective- 
ly of original merit, and if the continuance of the tem- 
per of humiliation is the fixed condition upon which 
a consciousness of it is granted to the believer, then 
nothing can be felt, in looking at home, but simple 
gratitude ; and no emotion indulged, in looking abroad, 
but the desire that others should partake of boons of 
which all have equal need, and of which none can 
claim to be worthy. 

The lurking notion on which the fanatic builds his 
self-gratulations, when he glances at the herd of men, 



276 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

is that they are, by the stern law of some intrinsic 
disqualification, for ever excluded from the hope of 
participating in the divine favour. His arrogance is 
of a patrician sort ; and he would fain persuade him- 
self that an eternal impossibility bars the access of 
others to the narrow ground he occupies. But the 
Christian — taught from the Bible, learns a lesson the 
very reverse of this. — Commissioned and enjoined, as 
he is, to invite " all men, every where to repent and 
believe the Gospel," exclusiveness of feeling is denied 
him ; nor can he harbour that grudging of grace, 
which distinguishes the fanatic. Are the blessings of 
Christianity actually enjoyed only by few ? Yes alas, 
but the Christian (by plain inference from his princi- 
ples) is taught to impute it to himself and his associates, 
as a fault that such is the fact. Far from thinking 
himself entitled to rest inertly upon the sunny spot of 
Heavenly favour where he reclines, he knows himself 
to be bound to take no ease until his neighbour — nay 
until all men obtain a share in his privilege. If, at a 
first glance, it might seem that the peculiarity of the 
Gospel gives sanction to fanatical presumption, we can 
no longer think so w^hen we recollect the solemn re- 
sponsibility laid upon all Christians to propagate their 
faith by the mild methods of instruction. How is it 
possible for a man selfishly to contemn others on ac- 
count of a privilege or distinction which he holds on 
the express condition of imparting it, by every means of 
persuasion, to all around him ? No one surely can, at 
the same moment, be diligently scattering a benefit — ^ 
and exulting in his exclusive possession of it. 

The scheme of religious sentiment contained in the 
Scriptures, wants then only to be received, such as it 
is, without deduction — without addition ; and to be re- 
ceived as the object of personal feeling, and it becomes 
altogether benign in its influence. Experience may 
be appealed to in proof of this assertion ; but our pres- 
ent purpose demands that we turn to the Inspired 
Writings, and examine in a number of instances, the 



NOT FANATICAL. 277 

xharacter and tendency of the sentiments they recom- 
mend. We have also to ascertain, if it can be done, 
what were the personal dispositions of the writers ; 
and to see whether those who promulgated this reli- 
gion were themselves free from the malign temper of 
the Fanatic. 

Peculiar considerations enhance the importance of 
the inquiry we have in hand. The fact (already ad- 
verted to) is not to be denied, that the Jewish people, . 
from the period when their affairs find a place on the 
page of general history, exhibit an extraordinary in- 
stance of national religious rancour, and stand forth 
almost as the Fanatics by eminence of the ancient 
world. It becomes then a question by no means friv- 
olous — When did this malign temper first make its 
appearance ; and whence did it derive its special mo- 
tives, and its aggravations ? Now fairly to deal with 
such a question, we should of course look to the reli- 
gious institutes of the people, as contained in their sa- 
cred writings, as well as examine the facts and cir- 
cumstances of their subsequent history. The latter 
we have already briefly considered ;* the former is 
now our business. 

Nothing is at any time to be gained in the behalf of 
religion by attempting to screen the Inspired Books 
from the fair scrutiny to which as historical documents 
merely, they may be liable. If the pious frauds and 
forgeries that once were accounted lawful and praise- 
worthy, are to be shunned and spoken of with detesta- 
tion ; so, doubtless, should we avoid and renounce all 
those indirect procedures in matters of argument, 
v/hich partake of the same spirit. Whoever is so hap- 
py as to possess an intelligent conviction of the divine 
origin of the Bible, feels himself free from the anxiety 
which has its source in ignorance and infirmity of 
judgment. 

We have before remarked that the influence of a 

* Pages 197—202. 

25 



278 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

system is not to be judged of by the single elements it 
may contain ; but by that balance of motives for 
which it provides. Let then this equitable principle 
be borne in mind while we take a survey of the Jew- 
ish institutions (so far as they relate to our subject) and 
of the revelations that were, in the course- of ages, 
grafted upon the Mosaic economy. 

The first grand peculiarity of the Hebrew polity, 
civil and sacred, was (it need hardly be said) the seclu- 
sion of the race from the great community of man- 
kind. — Now it is certain that a privileged seclusion, 
and especially a sacred one, tends, on the ordinary 
principles of human nature, to beget unsocial and fanat- 
ical sentiments. This general truth might be admitted, 
even in the fullest extent, and room would yet be left 
to allege, that an incidental or possible evil of this sort 
was well compensated by the momentous purpose of 
which that separation was the necessary means ; — the 
purpose being nothing less than the preservation in 
the world of the doctrine of the Divine Unity, and the 
maintenance of a pure moral code as the law of an 
entire people. But we leave untouched any such 
ground of apology, and prefer to ask — In what style 
or terms was the seclusion of the Hebrew race effect- 
ed ? The answer must be, that it was brought about 
in a mode so mortifying to the common emotions of 
national pride, that the endurance of it on the part of 
a rude and factious people is no slender proof that the 
Legislator, in the first instance, and after him the 
Prophets, were sustained in the exercise of their au- 
thority by miraculous powers. Nothing can be ima- 
gined more vehemently at variance with the usual 
practice and policy of founders of nations, or more 
unlike the tones of patriotic bards, than is the language 
incessantly repeated by Moses, and by the inspired 
teachers, as they succeed each other through the 
course of ages. One is actually tempted to suppose 
that he and they aimed at nothing so much as to feel 
and ascertain the extreme limit of their power over 



NOT FANATICAL. 279 

the popular mind, by outraging to the utmost its self- 
love and vanity. 

Whatever momentary objurgations might have had 
place between the Hebrew leader and the refractory 
tribes that followed him into the desert, or whatever 
terms of reproach might have been used by him on 
particular occasions, it did not seem necessary that 
such expressions of indignation — almost of scorn, 
which the provocation of the time called forth, should 
be recorded and should be mingled inseparately with 
the national code and history, and so be handed down 
to posterity. Unless a definite and very peculiar 
object had been in view, what Legislator, guided by 
common sense, w^ould have so enhanced the probabil- 
ity that his code should soon be consigned to oblivion 
as is done by inserting, almost on every page through- 
out his Institutes, the most obnoxious and disparaging 
epithets, and the most humiliating narrations? — Surely 
a higher wisdom than that of the human legislator is 
here apparent ; — or else there is less wisdom than the 
most simple of mankind are gifted with. Are we not 
compelled to confess, if the case be attentively con- 
sidered, that a special provision is made in the Penta- 
teuch for counteracting that national arrogance which 
the favoured seclusion of the people was of itself likely 
to engender ? This same code of sacred privilege, 
and of separation from the bulk of mankind, which 
the priests were enjoined perpetually to rehearse in 
the ears of the people — this Law, which was not only 
to be cherished in the heart, but to be " taught dili- 
gently unto children — to be talked of in the house and 
in the way — in lying down, and in rising up ; which 
was to be bound as a sign upon the hand, and as front- 
lets between the eyes, which was to be inscribed upon 
the door-posts and upon the gates of the city :"* — this 
same law, so reiterated, and so forced upon the 
memory, carried with it incessant and pointed rebukes 

♦ Deut. vi. 6, 7, 8 J and xi. 18, 



280 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

of the national vanity. It was one thing for Moses to 
have pungently upbraided a contumacious populace in 
moments of sedition ; and quite another for him to 
consign these same reproaches to perpetuity, by w^eav- 
ing them into his history, and by wedging them be- 
tween his statutes. Yet so we find them in scores of 
places. — "Ye are a sliif-necked people, an evil nation ; 
— I will come up into the midst of thee in a moment, 
and consume thee ; therefore now put off thine orna- 
ments from thee, that I niny know what to do unlo 
thee.'^'* 

A most explicit and particular caution against the 
indulgence of national pride is given by the Leader of 
the Hebrew tribes when, on the very borders of the 
promised land, he announced to the people the terrible 
part they were to act as executioners of the divine 
displeasure upon the corrupted occupants of the soil. — 
Can we read it without admiration of the courage of 
Moses ; — or without conviction of his divine legation ? 
" Speak not thou in thine heart, after that the Lord 
thy Gqd hath cast out the nations from before thee^ 
saymg — For my righteousness the Lord hath brought 
me in to possess this land. But for the wickedness of 
these nations the Lord doth drive them out from before 
thee. Not for thy righteousness, or for the uprightness 
of thine heart, dost thou go to possess their land. — 
Understand therefore, that the Lord thy God giveth 
thee not this good land to possess it for thy righteous- 
ness ; for thou art a stiff-necked people. Remember^ 
and forget not, how thou provokedst the Lord thy God 
to wrath in the wilderness : from the day that thou 
didst depart out of the land of Egypt, until ye came 
into this place, ye have been rebellious against the 
Lord. — Ye have been rebellious against the Lord from 
the day that I knew you."f 

Or if it had been the intention of their Leader indi- 
directly, yet effectually to lay the pride and youthful 

♦ Exod. xxxiii. 5. f Deut. ix. 4—7, 24. 



NOT FANATICAI,. 281 

exultation of the people, just bursting as they were 
upon the stage of political existence, and just setting 
foot upon the career of conquest, nothing could have 
been done, or thought of, more conducive to such a 
purpose, than the uttering that tremendous commina- 
tive prediction of the ultimate miseries of the nation, 
with which he takes leave of them. On any ordinary 
principles it might justly have been supposed that 
those prophetic curses, upon which history has made 
so long and sad a comment, would have operated 
either to break the heart of the people, or to have 
utterly disaffected their minds to a religious system 
that entailed penalties so dreadful. And the more so, 
when a confident or positive announcement of the 
actual issue was subjoined to the exhibition of blessings 
and curses. — "I call heaven and earth to record against 
you. — For I know that after my death ye will utterly 
corrupt yourselves, and turn aside from the way that I 
have commanded you ; and evil will befall you in the 
latter days."* 

In terms then, such as these, was it that the seclu- 
sion and the sacred privileges of the race were, in the 
first instance, sanctioned ! And the tone set by Moses 
was chimed-in with by each of the seers and poets in 
the long succession of ages. The buddings of religious 
national insolence we find to be nipped at once, and 
with a stern severity, by each divinely-commissioned 
personage, as he comes on the stage of sacred history. 
Reproof, reproach, if not contempt, is the character- 
istic of the Jewish canonical writings. Nor is so 
much as one passage to be found there, the tendency 
of which is to cherish the feeling that might naturally 
have sprung from a conscious enjoyment of preroga- 
tives and honours conferred upon the nation by the 
Sovereign of the Universe. Joshua, captain and con- 
queror, like Moses the legislator, surrenders his 

* Deut. xxxi. 27—29. 

25* 



282 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

charge and dies, with language on his lips of discour- 
agement and mistrust.* 

A particular and yet remarkable instance of the. care 
taken to damp the arrogance of the people is found in 
the form of thanksgiving that was put into the mouth 
of the Israelite when summoned to offer the first-fruits 
of the year to the Lord. " And thou shalt go unto the 
priest that shall be in those days," with the basket of 
fruits in hand, " and thou shalt speak and say before 
the Lord thy God — A Syrian ready to perish was my 
father, and he went down into Egypt, and sojourned 
there with a few, and became there a nation, great, 
mighty, and populous."t Let it be observed, as we 
pass, that the entire profession, including as it does all 
the elements of piety and benevolence, might with 
much effect be placed by the side of the festal litur- 
gies of other nations, wherein the exorbitant absurdi- 
ties of national vanity have usually been indulged 
without restraint. 

But to that venerable book of sacred odes and pub- 
lic anthems, of which the founder of the Israelitish 
monarchy was the chief author, we ought naturally to 
look for the evidence we are in search of. — Was, we 
ask, that spiritual superciliousness which religious 
privilege and seclusion are wont to engender, cherished, 
or was it repressed — -was it authenticated, or was it 
mortified, by the divinely-sanctioned poetry of the 
Hebrew people, and by the choruses of the Tem- 
ple ? First let the peculiar circumstances of the peo- 
ple and of their prince at the juncture when the 
Psalms came into general use, be considered. — After 
four centuries of political disquiet and distress ; — 
centuries of long depression and transient triumph, and 
just after the failure of the people's first essay at roy- 
alty, the nation had rallied, had mustered its spirits, 
had become invasive, had imposed fear in turn upon 
ail its neighbours, had trodden on the necks of its 

* Josh. xxiv. 15—37. f Deut. xxvi. 4— 10. 



NOT FANATICAL. 283 

ancient oppressors, and was now fast coming into 
quiet possession of the signal advantages of its soil and 
position: — the Hebrew people was rising from the 
dust and putting on the attire of the bridegroom, and 
was soon to abash its rivals by the splendours, as well 
as by the strength of national prosperity. And all this 
dazzling advancement was taking place under the hand 
of an obscurely-born captain, whom, in the style of 
common history, we should call an adventurer, and 
whose unstable power demanded the support of all 
available means of popularity. 

At the very same moment the primitive worship, as 
enjoined to the people by Moses, was restored and 
settled, and its services expanded and adorned. This 
then assuredly was the season in which the politic and 
heroic founder of a monarchy would endeavour to ex- 
alt to the highest pitch the national enthusiasm, and 
would labour to exacerbate all well founded preten- 
sions ; and especially to throw into the shade, or 
utterly to blot out, if possible, the anciently recorded 
dishonours of the nation. Shall we not find him 
avoiding, as by instinct, the obsolete themes of the 
people's dishonour 1 His discretion surely will impel 
him — king and poet as he is, to strike another wire. 
No, it is quite otherwise, for this man of incipient and 
uncertain fortune, this nursling of the sheepfold and 
the desert, employs the powers of song for no such 
purposes whatever. David wielded those two scep- 
tres, of which the one often proves quite as potent as 
the other, in the instance of an unsophisticated people. 
The warrior-king, is Seer and Bard ; and it is he who 
gives forth the sacred anthems of public worship ! 
Rare conjunction of talents and powers ! how shall 
such choice means be employed, so as most effectually 
to enhance the proud patriotism of the people — to 
blend that patriotism with the influence of religion, 
and, not least, to shed the delusive splendour of 
poetry and fable over the early history of the race ? 
On all grounds of ordinary calculation, and on every 



284 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

known principle of human nature, and according to 
the uniform tenor of history, we should expect nothing 
less in the Psalms of David than mythic exaggeration, 
mixed up with the stirring elements of sacred and 
civil fanaticism. But are these compositions of any 
such sort ? Nothing can be more widely opposed to 
the anticipations we might have formed. These sacred 
odes and solemn anthems subserve no purposes of 
kingly policy, and can be explained only when we 
adopt the belief which a single apostolic phrase con- 
densely expresses — that David "spake by the Holy 
Ghost." 

Before we turn to particular passages, it is pertinent 
to notice the general spirit of the poems attributed to 
David. It must be confessed then that an air of sad- 
ness pervades them. They abound with prayers 
under pressure of calamity ; and are thick set with 
the sighs and tears of a heavy heart. Nothing indi- 
cates that the royal lyre was at all thought of as an 
instrument of ambition : — the exploits and triumphs of 
the young hero, though chaunted by the damsels of 
Zion, are not made the themes of his own song. Let 
it be affirmed that they were composed in the early 
years of his exile, and under privation ; yet they were 
not afterwards supplanted by verse more befitting the 
glories of kingly state. 

The fifteenth, which is the first of these composi- 
tions that plainly seems intended for public worship, is 
severely didactic ; and comes to its close without a 
single note of joy. That noble ode (the ISth) which, 
more than any other, is exultant, being the one that 
signalizes the final triumph of David over his domestic 
foes, is remarkable for those often-repeated phrases 
that attribute the entire success of his course to divine 
interposition : — if it be a conqueror that speaks in these 
metres, he is such because the instrument of power 
from on high. Nor is the pride of the nation, any 
more than that of the prince, flattered, through the 
course of the psalm. The same spirit reappears on 



NOT FANATICAL. 285 

each similar occasion : — it is piety, not pride, that 
inspires the song of gratulation. As thus : — " Some 
trust in chariots, and some in horses ; but we will 
remember the name of the Lord our God." The 24th 
psakn, hke the 15th, is manifestly a triumphant anthem, 
to which all the powers of music should give effect, 
when the congregated people met on the hill of Zion. 
First mindful of the great principles of practical virtue, 
apart from which all worship is mockery, it swells 
into the loftiest strain of celestial rapture. — But who 
is the hero — and what is the subject ? — not David ; — 
it is not he whose approach is announced as " the 
glorious King," and whose entrance upon the precincts 
of worship is to be proclaimed by blast of trumpets. 
But " The Lord of hosts — He is the King of glory I " 
Judged of by the severest rules of criticism, can there 
be detected in this impassioned anthem even so much 
as a stain of royal vanity or of national arrogance ? 
Or to bring the question close home to our subject, 
does it appear that, to foment the fanaticism of this 
secluded people was the ruling intention of its sacred 
poetry ? We appeal for an answ^er to those who have 
read history, and are not ignorant of human nature. 

The care of morals, and a prompt jealousy for the 
Divine honour, meet us wherever we might most 
expect (on natural principles) to find excitements of 
another sort. Let the reader pursue this scrutiny, and 
adduce, if they exist, any contrary instances ; espe- 
cially let him look to such of these odes as have a 
prophetic aspect (for the future, even more than the 
past, is apt to inflame the imagination) or to those 
which seem designed for public w^orship — the worship 
of an assembled nation. The historical odes are not 
less remarkably abstinent of flattery to the popular 
feeling, and indeed must be deemed altogether unpar- 
alleled instances of national poetic records, inasmuch 
as the spirit and design of each of them is penitential, 
rather than exultant. Such is the recapitulation of 
the Mosaic story in the 7Sth Psalm. — What were the 



^86 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

things that had been " heard and known," and which 
" the fathers had told " to the sons ? not marvellous 
tales of prowess, and the conquest of monsters and 
titans ; — but the rebellions of the people's ancestors, 
and the patience of their God. And this same reca- 
pitulation w^as enjoined as a " statute for ever," that 
each generation, as it rose up, might learn to " set 
their hope in God, and not forget his works ; but keep 
his commandments ; and might not be as their fathers, 
a stubborn and rebellious generation — a generation 
that set not their heart aright, and whose spirit was 
not stedfast with God." We should mark the close 
of this mortifying recital, which ends in the establish- 
ment of the throne of David, who was " taken from 
the sheepfolds, and from follow ing the ewes great with 
young ! " A climax this, which, though quite in har- 
mony with the spirit of the poem, and of the collection, 
certainly does not betray much, either of royal arro- 
gance, or of fabulous exaggeration. 

The same themes, treated in nearly the same spirit, 
present themselves in the three consecutive odes (105, 
6, 7 ; and also in the 135th) ; which last beautifully 
teaches the doctrine of divine providence, in the best 
of all methods that of historical inference. To exalt 
Jehovahj to humble the people as a race that had 
never gratefully received, or duly improved its ex- 
traordinary privileges, is the purport of the whole ; 
and in reading them it is impossible that a candid 
mind should charge the fault upon the ancient litera- 
ture, any more than upon the primitive institutions of 
the Jewish people, if, in a subsequent age, the descend- 
ants of Abraham are found to have been distinguished 
by religious and national arrogance. That the highly 
important prerogatives of the race, as the chosen 
people of God, should be spoken of and rejoiced in, 
is only what piety and gratitude demand. — "The Lord 
sheweth his word unto Jacob ; his statutes and his 
judgments unto Israel. — He hath not dealt so with 
any nation ; and as for his judgments, they have not 



NOT FANATICAL. 287 

known them." * This was nothing more than simple 
fact. But the statement of it is mixed with none of 
the scorn or virulence that betrays a fanatical temper, 
and which belonged to the Jew of a later era ! 

But did the prophets of after ages work upon that 
easily excited feeling of spiritual vanity and rancour 
which, at the period of the Roman supremacy, and 
long afterwards, characterised the Jewish people ? To 
answer this question we must cast the eye over the 
line of the prophetic ministry, from the age of Hosea, 
to that of Malachi, embracing a disturbed and event- 
ful period of four hundred years. Every reader of 
the sacred documents knows that the impression 
which, as a mass, they make upon the mind, is that 
of a long lamentation, and a perpetual reproof The 
function of the Hebrew prophet, of every era, if we 
were required to describe it in a single term, must be 
called an office of upbraiding. These venerable wri- 
tings are immensly remote from that colour of exag- 
geration and flattery which belongs to the rhapsodies 
of the Bard among passionate and rude nations. The 
virulence of Jewish pride, it is certain, had not its 
source in the page of the prophets, any more than in 
the odes of David. But we are to adduce passages. 

" I have hewed them by the prophets ; — I have 
slain them by the words of my mouth."-!- — Descrip- 
tive metaphor ! not only proper to the past, but truly 
anticipative of what was to be the general strain of 
the prophetic message in succeeding ages. The good- 
ness of both branches of the Hebrew stock, was, we 
are told by Hosea, " like a morning cloud, and as the 
early dew :" and of both nations this ancient seer 
declares, that, " they had forgotten their Maker, and 
were like a deceitful bow. — Israel is an empty vine :" 
— " he has deeply corrupted himself "J — Both Israel 
and Judah are invited to return to their God; but it 
must be with hearty humiliations. In not a sentence 

* Ps. cxivii. 19, 20. t Hosea vi. 5. | Hosea vi. 4. viii, 14. x. 1. 



288 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

of this venerable composition can we detect an indi- 
cation of the existence, at that time, of the spiritual 
presumption which afterwards marked the temper of 
the people ; much less is any such spirit favoured by 
the prophet : on the contrary, a tone of disparagement 
distinguishes the whole of the prophecy. 

A remarkable rebuke of that malign complacency 
in the execution of Divine wrath which is too often 
admitted by gloomy and turbid minds, meets us in the 
book of Jonah. — " Should I not spare Nineveh, that 
great city?"* — Such is the style of the compassion of 
Heaven (indubitable mark of genuineness) and how 
unlike the petulance of the seer, who would rather 
have stood by and have witnessed the instant destruc- 
tion of an entire people, than that his own denuncia- 
tions should seem to be falsified ! If at any time we 
find, even in a prophet of Jehovah, a false sentiment — 
that sentiment is at once condemned and disowned ; — 
So true is it that the Hebrew Scriptures, far from 
being of fanatical tendency, counteract every feeling 
of that order. 

We descend the stream of time, yet do not descry, 
on either bank of the current, that noxious growth of 
religious pride which we are in search of. We meet 
however with the most pertinent proofs of the truth 
of our general doctrine — That the Jewish people, 
though favoured and sequestered, and taught to think 
themselves advantaged beyond any other nation, was 
so dealt with on the part of the prophets as to divert 
at its very spring, the risings of spiritual presumption. 
Let us hear on this point the eloquent herdsman of 
Tekoa. "Hear this word that the Lord hath spoken 
against you, O children of Israel ; against the whole 
family which I brought up from the land of Egypt, 
paying, You only have I known of all the families 

OF the earth ; therefore I WILL PUNISH YOU FOR 

ALL YOUR INIQUITIES."! Pungcnt admixture of the 
♦ Jonah iv. 11. f Amos iii, I, 2. 



NOT FANATICAL. 289 

counteractive elements of religious feeling ! as if the 
privilege and distinction of the race were to be kept 
in mind, only as a special ground of dread and shame ! 
If this single passage had been duly borne in mind 
and pondered by the zealots of the age of Vespasian, 
the fate and history of the people would have been 
other than they were. Each portion of the same 
prophecy mingles rebukes and promises, along with a 
stern enforcement of the capital principles of public 
justice, and as we read we are compelled to confess 
that the Seer was not one who, by whispering soft 
things in the ear of the great and the rich, made his 
way from rustic obscurity to fortune. — " Your tread- 
ing is on the poor ; — ye take from him burdens of 
wheat; therefore (though) ye have built houses of 
hewn stone, ye shall not live in them : — I know your 
manifold transgressions, and your mighty sins. — They 
afflict the just : they take a bribe, and they turn 
aside the poor in the gate."* — Nor, on the other 
hand, did the prophet flatter the mass of the people 
by cherishing their religious insolence ; for example — 
" I hate — I despise your feast days, and I will not 
smell in your solemn assemblies. — Take thou away 
from me the noise of thy songs, for I will not hear 
the melody of thy viols. — But let judgment run down 
as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream !"f 

One of the most animated of all the prophetic de- 
scriptions of the future glory and prosperity of the 
descendants of Abraham, forms the sequel of an an- 
nouncement of wrath immediately near. " Alas for 
the day ! for the day of the Lord is at hand ; as a de- 
struction from the Almighty shall it come :" and these 
two members of the prediction are made to hinge 
upon the fact of national repentance. " Then will the 
Lord be jealous for his land, and pity his people."J 
A national hope, not so enveloped into a caution or 
reproof, is scarcely found on the sacred page. 

* Amos V. 11, 12. t Amos v. 23, 24. + Joel i. 15. ii. 18. 

26 



290 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

Isaiah, the prophet who more clearly than any 
other, saw the bright futurity of his people*s glory, 
and who more distinctly than any other spoke of the 
Great Deliverer of mankind, observes invariably the 
rule his predecessors had adhered to — namely, of hold- 
ing a tight check upon the emotions of national pride. 
This is the theme to which not merely he recurs on 
particular occasions, but which he places foremost, as 
if it were to be the text of his prophetic ministry. 
Mortifying exordium, truly, of his message to a nation, 
favoured of God ! " Hear, O heavens, and give ear, 

earth ; for the Lord hath spoken : — I have nourish- 
ed and brought up children, and they have rebelled 
against me ! — The ox knoweth his owner, and the 
ass his master's crib ; but Israel doth not know, my 
people doth not consider, — Ah, sinful nation , — a peo- 
ple laden with iniquity ; — why should ye be stricken 
any more ! — Ye will revolt more and more :■ — the 
whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint !"* To 
dash to the ground the haughtiness of spurious piety is 
the very first business of the prophet. — "Bring no 
more vain oblations ; incense is abomination unto me ; 
the new moons and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, 

1 cannot away with ; it is iniquity, even the solemn 
meeting. Your new moons, and your appointed 
feasts, my soul hateth. — They are a trouble unto me ; 
I am weary to bear them."f 



* Isai. i. 2—5. 

t Isai. i. 13. It would be superfluous to refer the diligent reader 
of the Bible to the many passages in this prophet which are pertinent 
10 our present argument. If there are any who, while indulging 
unfavourable impressions of the religion of the Scriptures,' have never 
bestowed serious attention upon the evidence whence alone a rational 
opinion can be drawn, and if this note should meet the eye of any 
such person, the author recommends him, afler informing himself 
Qompetently of the moral and religious condition of the European 
and Asiatic nations in the Homeric and succeeding age, and after 
dismissing from the mind every prepossession, and every modem 
association of ideas, to read, and to read continuously, the prophecy 
of Isaiah, and to note as he goes along, whatever bears upon the fol- 
lowing capital points, namely: — 



NOT FANATICAL, 291 

We might pause here, and after resigning (for a 
moment) all those claims on behalf of the sacred vol« 
ume which do in fact overrule the question, demand, 
from competent and dispassionate minds, a reply on 
this simple historic point — Is the ancient Hebrew lit- 
erature liable to the charge of cherishing national ar- 
rogance and religious rancour, or does it not rather 
provide against, and repress, and reprove the risings 
of any such odious temper? — Does it appear that 
Jewish fanaticism drew its authority from the pro- 
phets 1 Or another, and a parallel question might be 
put — Do the prophets — in that style of which church 
history and later religious literature furnish ten thou- 
sand examples — exalt the importance of religious ser- 
vices and ceremonies, to the disparagement of morals ? 
Fanaticism, as we well know, takes its rise in the hot- 
bed of this very corruption. Is this then the fault that 
attaches to the canonical writings of the Jews ? Let 
the passage quoted just above, in which indignant re- 
probation is cast upon even the divinely appointed ser- 
vices of national religion, when deformed as they 
were at that time by hypocrisy, be read in connexion 
with the verses that immediately follow: — "Wash 
you, make you clean, put away the evil of your doings 
from before mine eyes : cease to do evil ; learn to do 
well ; seek judgment ; relieve the oppressed ; judge 



1. The unity, majesty, creative power, providential sway, justice, 
and placability of God. 

2. The prime articles of morality — ^justice, temperance, mercy, and 
kindness toward the weak and oppressed. 

3. The demerits and disgrace of the Jewish people ; and the 
grounds of the favour nevertheless shewn them by God. 

4. The anticipations and promises which relate to the world at 
large, and to an era of universal peace. 

5. The negative, but immensely important merit which belongs to 
this writer, of abstaining from all ascetic, superstitious, or extrava- 
gant religious excitements. 

Let it then be inquired if a book, having these distinctions, and 
produced when and where it was, does not proclaim beyond a doubt 
its own divinity. 



292 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

the fatherless ; plead for the widow."* These vig- 
orous expressions seem intended, if one might so 
speak, to burn and scorch the very germs of spiritual 
pride, hypocrisy, and hatred out of the Jev^ish mind. — 
Certainly our conclusion gathers strength — That the 
Hebrew Scriptures are not Fanatical. 

But inasmuch as it may have appeared, while 
traversing the ground we have lately passed over, 
as if every possible variety of fanaticism found its ex- 
ample somewhere among the extravagances exhibited 
by the Jewish people of a later age, and as if the fa- 
naticism of Papal Christianity, and of Mohammedism 
too, were but another fashion of that which had its 
parentage with the Jew, it becomes especially neces- 
sary to demonstrate that this bad spirit did not draw 
its origin from the early and authentic books of that 
people, but, on the contrary, received from them every 
imaginable check. 

Already, even in the age of Isaiah, the people, 
though not yet fanatics, had learned, it seems, to court 
delusion, and to bend their ear to religious flatteries. 
They " said to the seers, see not, and to the prophets, 
prophesy not unto us right things: speak unto us 
smooth things, prophesy deceits."! Yet this infatu- 
ated preference of lying oracles to the true, was not 
only rebuked at the moment, but the existence of so 
grevious a folly, in a people more highly favoured than 
any other, was to be recorded, and handed down as a 
warning to all future times. "Now go ; write it before 
them in a table, and note it in a book, that it may he for 
the time to come^ for ever and ever — That this is a re- 
bellious people, lying children, children that will not 
hear the law of the Lord." J And we should observe, 
that if the vehement rebuke itself be remarkable, the 
transmission and preservation of it by the very parties 
against whom it was launched, as a perpetual reproach, 
yes, a reproach that was to vex the ear of each suc- 
cessive generation " for ever," is a still more striking 
* Isai. i. J6, t Isai. xxx, IQ. t Isai. xxx. S. 



NOT FANATICAL, 293 

fact. Why was not a passage, such as the above, 
si'ently dropped from the text by the scribes of a later 
age ? — Why, but because within the sohtary circle of 
Jewish history nothing happens in mere conformity 
with the ordinary impulses of human nature, but every 
thing indicates the immediate presence of a controlling 
power " not of men," 

The latter and more consolatory portions of Isaiah's 
prophecy are (on another account) as remarkable as 
the earlier, and the more stern portion. In these no 
one can fail to notice the care with which the stirring 
hopes of the Israelitish people are severed from emo- 
tions of arrogance, and are connected with the spirit 
of humiliation, and with the remembrance of past 
offences. " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith 
your God. — Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and 
cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that 
her iniquity is pardoned ; for she hath received of the 
Lord's hand double for all her sins." — " I, even I am 
He that blotteth out thy transgressions, for mine ow^n 
sake, and will not remember th}^ sins."* That fre- 
quent theme — the singular obduracy of the national 
character, comes up wherever promises of restoration 
and triumph are to be afforded, " I knew that thou 
art obstinate, and thy neck an iron sinew, and thy brow^ 
brass:" — "thou wast called a transgressor from the 
womb." — " O that thou hadst hearkened to my com- 
mandments ! then had thy peace been as a river, and 
thy righteousness as the waves of the sea !"f 

The task of the prophets, as we have observed, was 
that almost always, of reproof and denunciation. But 
according to the principles of human nature this is a 
part, which, when it comes to be the chief business of 
a man's life, tends strongly to overcloud his spirit, and 
to embitter his temper ; the more so when he has to 
deal with great affairs, and with men of high station — 
when he has to denounce national deliquencies — to 

* Isai. xi. 1, 2. f Isai, xlviii, 7, 18. 

26* 



294 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

arraign the noble, and to challenge even kings to an- 
swer for their faults. Let any one imagine himself to 
have received a commission of this sort, and that it 
were his office to chastise his country, and its rulers, 
year after year, with the fiery scourge of his lips. — - 
What probably would be his temper — what the tone 
of his arrogance — what his self-sufficiency, and what 
that rancour which the contumacy of the common 
people, on the one hand, and the persecutions of the 
great on the other would, after a while, impart to his 
soul ? Scarcely any instance of a sort like this, can 
be found within the range of modern history, that does 
not declare the extreme difficulty of avoiding sour or 
fanatical virulence, when the office of public reprover 
has to be discharged. Yet it was precisely in a posi- 
tion of this kind that the melancholic priest of Ana- 
thoth, Jeremiah, stood, and stood alone, during the 
lapse of forty dismal years. Isaiah, his predecessor, 
had seen the evil afar off; — but Jeremiah actually 
v^^aded through the troubled waters of national corrup- 
tion, and desolation. Tumult, contumacy, injurious 
treatment, public ruin, and personal distresses, follow^- 
ed him from the commencement to the close of his 
career. Even if there be no room to expect, in the 
pages of one like Jeremiah, the indications of a wish 
to flatter the spiritual pride of the people, may we not 
confidently look there for the symptoms of that per- 
sonal FANATICISM— that malign acerbity, which or- 
dinarily belongs to the character of a public accuser ? 
Any such natural anticipations will be falsified ; for 
if there be any one portion of the Hebrew Scriptures 
that peculiarly breathes a tender and plaintive spirit, it 
is the prophecy of Jeremiah. In reading it we see and 
hear the injured man of grief bewailing the miseries 
of his country, as well as his own misfortunes. " Oh 
that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of 
tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of 
the daughter of my people !"* This is not the mood 

* Jer. ix. i. 



NOT FANATICAL. 295 

of the murky fanatic, who seeks to avenge the slights 
he has personally received from his countrymen, by 
exulting over public calamities. At the moment when 
murderously set upon by the men of his native town, 
the prophet passionately appeals to the divine protec- 
tion,* and receives a message of wrath for his perse- 
cutors ; but plainly he is not to be deemed vindictive 
in so doing, until the reality of his commission has been 
disproved. No native asperity of temper made the 
work of threatening agreeable to him. Witness his 
exclamation — " Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast 
borne me a man of strife, and a man of contention, to 
the whole earth !"t That his disposition was timid 
and mistrustful, much more than pugnacious, is evident ; 
and, as is quite natural to such a temper, when en- 
circled by formidable adversaries, he eagerly implores 
aid from heaven, whence alone he could hope for deliv- 
erance. But it is otherwise with the fanatic, who, in 
moments of excitement and danger, almost always 
shows the greater daring ; nor will he even affect to 
say — " I have not desired the woeful day — O Lord 
thou knowest : — that which came out of my lips was 
right before thee. — Be not a terror unto me, thou art 
my hope in the day of evil." J There are no charac- 
teristic distinctions to be relied upon at all among the 
passions, if we may not safely discriminate between 
the vehement strivings of an oppressed and tender 
spirit, and the virulent moodiness of the religious mis- 
anthrope. — The one bewails its own misfortunes as 
thus — " Wherefore came I forth of the womb to see 
labour and sorrow, that my days should be consumed 
with shame :"§ — the other ruminates revenge, and 
cheers himself in the prospect of it. 

There is found a courage, the fruit of virtue, in in- 
stances where the native courage of temperament is 
quite wanting. A firmness of the former sort was 
displayed by the prophet when at length, after many 

* Jer. xi. 20. f Jer. xv. 10. J Jer. xvii. 16. § Jer. xx 13. 



296 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

menaces from the rulers, he was arraigned as a traitor, 
and stood in immediate peril of death.* The con- 
stancy he displays on this occasion brings together 
meekness and resolution in genuine combination. — 
"As for me, behold I am in your hand ; do with me 
as seemeth good and meet unto you. But know ye 
for certain, that if ye put me to death, ye shall 
surely bring innocent blood upon yourselves, and upon 
this city, and upon the inhabitants thereof: for of a 
truth the Lord hath sent me unto you, to speak all 
these words in your ears." 

But if we wanted a searching test, by means of 
which to determine the question of a man's temper, 
we might well find it in such a particular as this — 
namely, that while a self-commissioned and fanatical 
reprover holds back whatever might seem emollient or 
consolatory, and is really unable to strike any chord 
that is not harsh — the true messenger of heaven, on 
the contrary, shews whence he has received his in- 
structions by frequently reverting (and with a natural 
ease) to bring hopes and mild persuasives. Now this 
characteristic especially belongs to Jeremiah. The 
instances are very numerous in which, even with the 
heaviest denunciations on his lips, he mingles the most 
cheering predictions, and the tenderest advices. 
" Therefore fear thou not, O my servant Jacob, saith 
the Lord, neither be dismayed, O Israel, for lo, I will 
save thee from afar, and thy seed from the land of 
their captivity. And Jacob shall return, and shall be 
in rest, and be quiet, and none shall make him afraid." 
— "And out of (his ruined palaces) shall proceed 
thanksgiving, and the voices of them that make 
merry."! 

To announce wrath, which makes the sad burden 
of the true servant of the Lord, is the spontaneous 
task of the genuine fanatic ; and because it is the task 
he has chosen, he refuses to take up any other theme. 

* Jer. xxvi. 10. f Jer. xlvi. 27, 28. 



NOT FANATICAL. 297 

On this principle we do not hesitate to conclude that 
the Jewish prophets, though from age to age the mes- 
sengers of divine displeasure, were incited by no 
malignant impulse : and the criterion is, that not one 
of them, even the most lugubrious, fails to brighten 
his scroll of woe with frequent words of mercy, and 
many sparkles of distant hope. 

EzEKiEL, like Jeremiah, and his predecessors, opens 
his ministry with language of disparagement towards 
the people to whom he is sent : — it was " a rebellious 
nation ; — they and their fathers ; — impudent children 
and stiff-hearted ; — they are a rebellious house."* 
Before this contumacious people was the prophet 
enjoined to spread " a roll of a book, written within and 
without with lamentations, and mourning, and woe." But 
if such be the pervading colour of EzekieF's prophecy, 
as of others, this like others, recommends itself as 
indeed a divine message, by its firm and very copious 
assertion of the great principles of virtue and piety. 
The prophet's forehead was " made as adamant, and 
harder than flint," to oppose the impudent rebellion of 
the people ; but it was still " to warn the v/icked to 
turn from his wickedness, and live." And we find 
too here, the same frequent admixture of gracious 
promises, and bright anticipations, with heavier mat- 
ters. " I will even gather you from the people, and 
assemble you out of the countries where ye have been 
scattered ; and I will give you the land of Israel. 
And I will give you one heart ; and I will put a new 
spirit within you ; and I will take the stony heart out 
of your flesh, and will give you a heart of flesh, that 
ye may walk in my statutes, and keep my ordinances, 
and do them ; and they shall be my people ; and I 
will be their God."t This is encouragement without 
flattery ; and hope, bursting through the black clouds 
of divine indignation. 

* Ezek. ii. 3, 4, 10. f Ezek. xi. 16—20, and xxxvi. 20, to the end. 



298 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

We find in Ezekiel * significant allusions to the 
existence, in his time, of sanctimoniousness and hypoc- 
risy — vices that distinguish the mature age of a 
national religion ; but yet there are no indications of 
the rise of that peculiar temper which, a few centuries 
later, became characteristic of the race. Nor indeed 
does any evidence present itself which might so be 
understood, until some time after the closing of the 
sacred canon. Had the spirit of fanaticism actually 
come abroad among the Jewish people in the age we 
are now speaking of, some indirect proof of the fact 
would infallibly have made itself apparent in those 
various writings that contain, or refer to the national 
sentiments, during, and after the captivity. — It was in 
Babylon, vexed, afflicted, humiliated, and yet conscious 
of a dignity far superior to what could be boasted by 
the lordly oppressor, that the Jew would naturally (if 
it had indeed become his mood) have given vent to 
the rankling pride of his bosom. Or it was while 
toiling, sword in hand, amid the ruins of the holy city 
— beset by jealous foes, scorned, dependant for pro- 
tection upon an idolatrous government, and now 
thoroughly disenchanted of the ancient polytheistic 
propensity — it was then, and under circumstances of 
such extraordinary excitement, that the sons of Abra- 
ham — friend of God, might be expected to swell and 
pant with the gloomy and vindictive arrogance of 
spiritual conceit. Yet we do not find that such w^as 
the fact. The strong corrective influence of the 
sacred writings, as well as of the extant prophetic 
function, held, it seems, the fanatical tendency eflfect- 
ually in check. 

Fairly considered, in this specific point of view, the 
solemn confession of national disgraces and delinquen- 
cies, uttered by Daniel, while the heavy foot of the 
Median king was yet on the neck of the people, ought 

* Ezek. xxxiii. 31. 



NOT FANATICAL. 299 

to be taken as presumptive evidence that no rancorous 
national fanaticism — the usual product of grievous 
sufferings in minds conscious of religious nobility, had 
then sprung up, nor belonged to the Jew of the Cap- 
tivity. Proof of the same kind, in part negative, in 
part positive, may be drawn from the manner and 
spirit of the prophets who closed the sacred canon. 
Haggai, for example, reproves, humiliates, and 
encourages the people ; but neither does he himself 
excite, nor does he even allude to the existence of 
that peculiar temper, the origin of which w^e are in 
quest of: the virulence of national religious malig- 
nancy is not as yet discoverable. Zechariah is 
consolatory, and labours to exhilarate the people ; 
nevertheless he sternly insists on the great matters of 
justice and mercy. — "Execute true judgment," says 
he, " and shew mercy and compassions, every man to 
his brother; and oppress not the widow, nor the 
fatherless, the stranger nor the poor ; and let none of 
you imagine evil against his brother in your heart."* 
This prophet then, we conclude, was no fanatic ; for 
it is the special characteristic of such to set light by 
the simple truths of morality, while religious preten- 
sions are blown up, and held on high. Nor does it 
appear as if the Jews of his time were fanatical ; for 
although grievous faults of almost all kinds, are 
charged upon them, no allusion whatever is made, 
such as suggests the belief that this species of extrav- 
agance had then shewed itself. 

Ezra and Nehemiah — priest and prince stand on 
the page of history as noble examples of religious and 
national constancy, and of zeal for an institute, without 
perceptible taint of fanatical virulence. Their conduct 
and expressions are quite becoming to men who, being 
themselves accountable to a very jealous foreign power, 
and spitefully watched and hemmed in by the lawless 
hordes that ravaged the country, had to discharge the 

* Ezek. vii. 9. 10. viii. 16, 17. 



300 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

difficult part of restoring a long desolated land, of 
reinstating a fallen polity, and of correcting inveterate 
abuses. So far as we may safely gather indirect 
evidence from materials so brief and scanty, these two 
Chiefs might, if brought into comparison with any men 
who have been placed in similar circumstances, chal- 
lenge high praise for patriotism, courage, and modera- 
tion. Ezra and Nehemiah, we say, would have been 
heroes in the world's esteem — if they had not been 
Bible heroes. We should not neglect to take into 
our account the copious and eloquent historical con- 
fession, uttered in face of the assembled people by 
their leaders, after a public reading of the Law.* 
The introductory phrase is especially pertinent to our 
subject. — " And the seed of Israel separated them- 
selves from all strangers" (not haughtily to exult in 
their distinctions, nor to recouiit the early glories of 
their now fallen state, but) " to confess their sins 

AND THE INIQUITIES OF THEIR FATHERS." No singlc 

excitement of fanaticism — no trace of it, is to be found 
in these closing memorials of canonical Jewish history. 
— Let the reader, if yet he doubts, search and see. 

In the hasty, yet not incautious, review we have 
taken of the Hebrew Scriptures we have assumed 
nothing in their behalf; but have judged of them pre- 
cisely as we should of the ancient literature of any 
other people. The issue of our scrutiny is a double 
conclusion, ^r5^ that these writings do not encourage 
the spirit and feeling which the consciousness of 
religious privileges often engenders ; but rather (and 
m a very remarkable manner) bear with all their 
stress against the rise of such emotions ; and secondly y 
that while they afford abundant evidence (evidence 
given without reserve) of the prevalence of almost 
every immorality and disorder among the people, no 
indication is contained in them of the existence of that 
national fanaticism which, in the Roman age, raged 
m Judea so vehemently. 

* Neh. ix. 



NOT FANATICAL. 301 

But there yet remains a point or two that must be 
noticed. — It has appeared that the arrogance of the 
Jewish people was not fomented, but repressed by- 
Moses, and by the poets and prophets of succeeding 
times. — This however is a half only of the evidence 
that bears upon our argument, for it can be proved 
that a kindly sentiment towards the human family at 
large was pointedly enjoined by the same authorities. 
Separation, it is true, was the fundamental principle 
of the Jewish polity ;— but then it was separation on 
(he ground only of those corruptions and enormities 
that prevailed in the surrounding countries. The sole 
object or intention of the national seclusion was to 
preserve in the world the prime elements of morals 
and religion. And to secure this intention, and to se- 
cure it in the actual condition of mankind at the time, 
an extraordinary line of policy, in particular cases, as 
well as unique institutions, both civil and religious, 
were indispensable. This chosen race of true wor- 
shippers must needs assume a front of defiance and of 
universal reprobation, planted, as it was, on the con- 
fines of mighty and splendid idolatries. But then the 
reprobation had regard to nothing but the errors and 
the horrid vices of idolatry ; consequently it was al- 
ways true that, whoever among the nations afar off 
or near, would renounce his delusions, and " cleave 
unto the God of Israel," was welcomed to the bosom 
of the state. Thus the light of genuine religion was 
diffused, as much as conserved, by the Mosaic institu- 
tions ; and explicit provision was made for the unlim- 
ited extension of the benefits they conferred. 

During the purer age of the Israelitish state it is 
manifest that the pi-opagation of true religion was an 
object of the fond desires and prayers of the pious. 
— The people were instructed to connect their own 
prosperity with the welfare of the world. Yes — little 
as we may perhaps have heeded the fact, it is certain 
that expressions of the most expansive philanthropy 
echoed in the anthems of the Jewish temple worship ! 

27 



302 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

The passages challenge attention. — " God be merciful 
unto us, and bless us, and cause his face to shine upon 
us. — That thy way may be known upon e^irth, thy sav- 
ing health among all nations. — Let the people (the na- 
tions) praise thee, O God ; let all the people praise 
thee. O let the nations be glad and sing for joy; 
for thou shalt judge (preside over) the people right- 
eously, and govern the nations upon earth. Let the 
people praise thee, O God ; let all the people praise 
thee. Then shall the earth yield her increase, and 
God, EVEN OUR OWN GoD, shall bless us : — God shall 
bless us, and all the ends of the earth shall fear him.* 
Noble utterance this, of piety and universal good-will f 
and how utterly unlike to that grudging temper which 
had taken firm hold of the Jewish mind in the time of 
its reprobation. 

While fixing the eye upon the heights of the south- 
ern Syria in the age of Titus, who must not be amazed 
at the singular spectacle of a petty tribe, having its 
face sternly set against all nations, so as justly to be 
styled — "haters of mankind." And yet — marvellous 
are the revolutions of national character, this same 
region, and its sacred capital, a few centuries before, 
was the only spot on all the globe (as far as history in- 
forms us) where public worship ennobled itself by the 
language of universal good-will to man ! 

Never is it found that fanaticism indulges bright and 
unrestricted hopes in favour of the bulk of mankind. 
— Certainly it is not fanaticism that says — " All nations 
whom thou hast made shall come and worship before 
thee, O Lord, and shall glorify thy name."f It is not 
fanaticism that, in the moment of national exultation, 
challenges all men to partake with itself its choicest 
honours. Yet such was actually the style of the songs 
that resounded, sabbath after sabbath, from the conse- 
crated palaces of Zion. " O sing unto the Lord a 
aew song ; — sing unto the Lord, all the earth. De- 

* Psalm Ixvii, f Psalm Ixxxvi. 9. 



NOT FANATICAL. 303 

clare his glory among the heathen, his wonders among 
^H people. — Give unto the Lord, O ye kindreds of the 
people, give unto the Lord glory and strength. Give 
unto the Lord the glory due unto his name. Bring an 
offering and come into his courts. O worship the 
Lord in the beauty of holiness (Jerusalem) fear before 
him all the earth."* We ask now, Is it fair to say that 
the pristine religion of the Jews was dark, churlish, or 
misanthropic ? " O praise the Lord, all ye nations, 
praise him, all ye people."! Such was that Judaism 
(as God made it) of which the Gospel gave only a 
new interpretation ! But the degraded Jew of the 
era of the Gospel had so perverted the faith of his an- 
cestors, that when Christianity came in at length to 
give effect to the devout desires of the ancient church, 
he gnawed his tongue in very spite. — Let us then at- 
tribute the later bad spirit strictly to the men in whom 
it is found ; and do justice, as well to the primitive 
doctrine of this extraordinary people, as to the brighter 
system which sprung out of it. 

Not only did several explicit enactments secure per^ 
mission to aliens to take their part in the sacred Mo- 
saic rites — even the most pecuhar of them, but innu^ 
merable passages of the Pentateuch and of the pro- 
phets, assert, very solemnly, the rights of the stranger^ 
and protect his welfare, along always with the widow 
and the fatherless. — " The Stranger, the widow, and 
the fatherless," were to be cared for and cherished, as 
an indispensable condition of the Divine favour to the 
nation. " Take heed that you oppress not the stran- 
ger, for thou w^ast a stranger in the land of Egypt." 
The Mosaic law, if actually seclusive, and if in one 
sense stern, was benign also, as well as just. In truth 
the Israelitish Law stands absolutely alone among the 
various documents of antiquity, as an efficient Protec- 
tor of the feeble and destitute, against the strong — of 
the poor against the rich. Nothing, in the eye.of this 

* Paalm xcvi, t Psalra cxviL 



304 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

law, made men abominable — but vice : — it authenti- 
cated no sanctity apart from the practice of justice 
and mercy. — What more can we wish for or think of 
in a code that professes to come from Heaven ? 

The prophets as they rose, vigorously maintained 
the Mosaic provisions in favour of the alien. For 
example — " Let not the son of the stranger that hath 
joined himself to the Lord, speak saying — The Lord 
hath utterly separated me from his people. — The sons 
of the stranger (i. e. all men without distinction, not 
of the Abrahamic race) that join themselves to the 
Lord, to serve him, and to love the name of the Lord, 
to be his servants, every one that keepeth the sabbath 
from polluting it, and taketh hold of my covenant ; — 
even them will I bring to my holy mountain, and 
make them joyful in my house of prayer : their burnt 
offerings and their sacrifices shall be accepted upon 
mine altar ; for my house shall be called a house of 
prayer for all people."* The conversion of the 
Gentiles to the true religion is, as every reader of the 
Bible knows, a very frequent theme with the prophets ; 
and when combined, as we find it, with pungent up- 
braidings of the chosen race, on account of their in- 
veterate obduracy, must be held to constitute the 
strongest counteractive influence that can be imagined 
against spurious and repulsive national prejudices in 
matters of religion. 

To what extent during the lapse of many centuries, 
the Jewish institutions and Sacred Books actually dif- 
fused the blessings of true religion among the sur- 
rounding nations is a point not now to be ascertained. 
Yet evidence is not wanting in support of the suppo- 
sition that the influence of the Hebrew polity and 
literature spread, in some directions, very far, so that 
the splendour of Truth which fell in a full beam upon 
Zion, did in fact radiate on all sides, and was " as a 
light to lighten the Gentiles," even to the ends of the 

* Isai. Ivi. 3, 6. 7. 



NOT FANATICAL. 305 

earth. Without assuming to know more than history 
enables us to speak of, we may safely conjecture that 
the successive captivities of the two portions of the 
Hebrew race subserved this benignant intention, and 
operated to scatter the elements of virtue and piety 
over most parts of the eastern world. In like man- 
ner as Christianity was at first diffused by means of 
persecution, so, probably, had Judaism been diffused, 
again and again, by the conquest and desolation of its 
native soil. And it is to be noted that those who thus 
went forth — the compulsory missionaries of pure the- 
ology, left the land of their fathers before the age 
when the proud and churlish temper which after- 
wards made their name odious in all the world, had 
sprung up.* 

But we have, in a former Section, affirmed, that 
fanaticism has its rise either in a gloomy conception 
of the Divine Nature, or in a behef which attributes 
the immediate and sovereign control of human affairs 
to malign invisible powers. A main consideration 
then, when the tendency of the Hebrew Scriptures 
becomes matter of inquiry, is the representation they 
make (taken in mass) of the character of Jehovah. In 
addition to what has already been said on this point 
some special circumstances should be adverted to. 

We naturally read the Old Testament in the light 
of the New. Or, in reading the Old, we carry with 
us those brighter or more refined elements of Theol- 
ogy to \vhich the Gospel has given prominence ; and 

* A more than curious subject of inquiry presents itself in this 
direction, A multitude of intimations, scattered over the remains of 
ancient literature, supports the belief that the Hebrew theology had 
a very extensive influence throughout the eastern world — an influ- 
ence reflected faintly upon Greece, in furnishing to mankind the ele- 
ments of piety. The two books of Josephus against Apion are 
available as aids in such an inquiry ; and we might turn also with 
great advantage to the early Christian writers, especially those 
named in a preceding note (p. 263), who supply very many clews for 
extending it still further. The results of such an investigation 
would be consolatory on more grounds than one. The beneficence 
©f Heaven is broader than we often suppose. 

27* 



306 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

then we measure the immature, or undeveloped prin- 
ciples of the precursive dispensation by the standard 
of the later. Yet a different mode of procedure is 
demanded by historic justice ; — for plainly we ought 
to form our conceptions of the religious system given 
to the descendants of Abraham, by paying attention 
to the position in which it stood in relation to the sen- 
timents and practices of the nations around it, during 
the ages of its destined continuance. — Judaism, such 
as we find it in the writings of Moses and the Prophets, 
is not so properly thought of as a beam of light from 
heaven, shining on a certain spot of earth ; as an en- 
ergy of resistance, or a defensive power, maintaining, 
from age to age, a difficult position, against mighty 
assailants on all sides. Before we can fairly say what 
was Judaism — we must know — to what it was opposed 
— and what were the errors it kept at bay. 

Is it then true that these ancient books present a 
stern and formidable front ? Is the Divine Majesty, 
as spoken of by the Seers of Israel, girt about with 
thick clouds of the sky, and do thunderbolts play 
around the footstool of his throne ? Yes ; but what 
were those idolatrous delusions of which this same 
awful revelation made itself the antagonist ? Nothing 
less horrible than the murderous superstitions of the 
Tyrians, Sidonians, Moabites, Ammonians, Egyptians, 
Philistines, Babylonians. These were the adversaries 
of Jehovah, and it was therefore that " a fiery tem- 
pest went before Him." The terrors that made Sinai 
tremble were conservative means — were defensive 
weapons — were necessary and benign instruments, 
employed to expel from the rude minds of an infant 
nation, the cruel and foul belief and worship of 
Moloch, of Dagon, of Baal, of Thammuz. The stern- 
ness of Jehovah should then be thought of as we 
regard the compassionate vigour of a Parent, who 
strives, at all costs, to rescue his children from some 
cruel and seductive thraldom. 

Mere justice, suqh as the principles of historic ia- 



MOT FANATICAL^ 307 

quiry demand, not to speak of religious considerations, 
requires that we should read the Old Testament under 
this recollection, and as often as we meet with that 
which, to our acquired notions, seems rigorous, or vin- 
dictive, we are bound to bear in mind the sanguinary 
temper, and the detestable usages from which this 
same rigour was to preserve the tribes of Israel. The 
lapse of four and thirty centuries permits us now to 
descry only the dim forms of the idolatory that had 
gained its acme of cruelty among the nations of Canaan, 
and the surrounding countries, when Moses led his 
people into the Arabian deserts. But the more indus- 
triously we pursue the faint indications of antiquity, 
the more clearly do we discern the reason and fitness 
and necessity of what, in the Jewish history alarms 
our modern notions of the Divine Nature. 

And yet let it be distinctly understood what the 
real character of that severity was which distinguishes 
the ancient Jewish theology ? Jehovah, was He terri- 
ble ? Yes, but to whom ? — To none but the corrupt, 
the unjust, the rapacious, the impure. Toward the 
faithful and the obedient, toward the penitent and the 
upright, He was " full of compassion, and gracious, 
slow to anger, ready to forgive ; — a God pardoning 
iniquity, and passing by the transgression of his heri- 
tage." The memory of every one conversant with 
the Scriptures is fraught with passages of similar 
import ; and it might even be affirmed that, although, 
in the New Testament, the way of access to the Divine 
favour is set open in a manner of which the Old Testa- 
ment knows little, nevertheless, if we are in quest of 
abstract affirmations of the placability and tenderness 
of God toward man, or if we want affecting instances 
of Divine condescension, we shall find such passages 
in greater abundance in the Old Testament than in 
the New. — Moreover (and this fact should never be 
forgotten) a great and leading purpose of the ancient 
dispensation was to protect the human mind from the 
slavish terror, so natural to it, of those subordinate 



308 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

MALIGNANT PowERs, wliosG tyraonous rage could be 
propitiated only by horrible rites. In this sense, 
emphatically, Moses and the Prophets struck at the 
root of fanaticism, by instating the Holy and Supreme 
Benevolence in the heart of man, as the only object 
of dread, and by dislodging from their seats the host 
of ferocious invisible divinities. 

We dare then conclude, upon impartial and atten- 
tive consideration of the evidence, first that the reli- 
gion of the Hebrew Scriptures is not of fanatical 
tendency ; and then that the writers of those books 
were not men of exaggerated and malign tempers. 

In reaching this conclusion we have assumed nothing 
peculiar in behalf of the Hebrew Scriptures ; but have 
looked at them as we should at any other ancient 
writings, and have endeavoured to estimate their 
quality and influence on the ordinary principles of 
human nature. But the result of such an examination 
must be — as we undoubtedly believe, to estabhsh the 
divine original of these books. This point secured, 
and it is secured too on every separate line of argu- 
ment that is applicable to the subject, and then the 
fact — That the Jewish Lawgiver, and the prophets, 
and the poets of Israel were men immediately com- 
missioned and empowered by God, affords a proper 
solution of every apparent difficulty, arising either 
from the spirit and complexion of particular passages, 
or from the course of conduct enjoined in special in- 
stances. 

What can be more manifest than the propriety of 
this mode of treating such difficulties ? For one man 
to accost another as the enemy of God — or to adjudge 
him to perdition, or to strike him to the earth, is indeed 
an outrage such as bespeaks in the assailant the most 
dire fanaticism, or absolute insanity. But the case is 
altogether altered if this same denunciator, or execu- 
tioner of the wrath of Heaven is able to show Heaven's 
credentials actually in his hand. He whom God 
sends, speaks the words of God— delivers a trust which 



NOT FANATICAL. 309 

he has no liberty to evade, and performs a part that 
can have no immorality, because it proceeds from the 
Source of Law. This rule applies, without an ex- 
ception, to all those instances, so often and so idly 
produced, in which the question hinges exclusively 
upon the fact of a divine injunction given to the 
speaker or the agent. If the prophet, or the chief 
were indeed inspired, then the words he utters or the 
deeds he performs are not to be accounted his ; and 
though arrogant or vindictive, if human only, are fitting 
and just — if divine. Concede the divinity of the 
Scriptures, and then every such objection is merged, 
or becomes ineffably futile. Deny their divinity, and 
then the argument is altogether unimportant. 



SECTION X. 

THE RELIGION OF THE BIBLE NOT FANATICAL. 
(the NEW TESTAMENT.) 

To entertain, even hypothetically, an argument such 
as the one before us, may seem not merely superflu- 
ous, but improper. What, it may be asked, has the 
world seen comparable to Christianity for the benignity 
of its maxims and spirit ? Where are we to find 
charity, where meekness, where philanthropy, if not 
in the Gospels ? — To inquire then, as if the issue were 
doubtful, whether this religion be rancorous and 
fanatical, might appear not more irreverent than 
preposterous. 

Be it so, and yet we must advance in our course 
without fear. To a timid objector it is enough to re- 
ply that, as in fact the most inordinate species of fan- 
aticism have, in different eras, sprung out of the pro- 
fession of Christianity, and have in the most intimate 
manner blended themselves with its principles, there is 
a very urgent necessity, if we would deal fairly with 
our subject, for a strict search into the authentic docu- 
ments of our faith, with this specific view; and the 
issue of such an inquiry, as we are persuaded, can be 
nothing else but to prove — -firsts That these writings 
contain no malign excitements ; and secondly^ That 
the writers were personally exempt from every kind 
of spurious and rancorous sentiment. The question 



RELIGION OF THE BIBLE NOT FANATICAL. 311 

having already been briefly considered on general 
grounds, (pp. 273—277) we have now only to pass 
(with as much celerity as the argument admits) 
through the several canonical books, noting as it arises, 
whatever fairly bears upon the question. 

We are met, on the very first page of the evangelic 
history, by a choir of supernal beings, announcing the 
Saviour's birth, which is declared to bring " peace on 
earth, and goodwill to men," as well as " glory to 
God." Has this angelic profession then been borne 
out, or contradicted by facts ? — A perplexing question, 
if we are resolved to impute to systems, or persons, 
the entire mischief that has chanced to stand connected, 
ever so remotely, with them ; but by no means per- 
plexing, if we mean to look equitably at the intrinsic 
qualities of a system, and to the personal dispositions 
and conduct of the men who have yielded themselves 
the most completely to its influence. On this ground it 
may confidently be affirmed that, as peace and philan- 
thropy are the grand lesson of the Gospel, so have 
they been its actual fruits. 

A circumstance that ought by no means to be passed 
over, is the sort of welcome given to the "holy child" 
on his first entrance upon his " Father's house" — the 
Jewish temple. There the long desired " consolation 
of Israel" is afl[irmed to be '^ a Light to lighten the 
Gentiles," as well as the glory of the chosen people. 
Early 'check, this, to the then prevalent and fast ripening 
national arrogance and bigotry of the Abrahamic race ! 
Although thus it had been long before " written in the 
prophets," no principle could more oflfend the pre- 
judices of the times than this — That the Messiah, the 
King of Israel, should bless, rather than exterminate 
and vanquish, the uncircumcised families of the earth. 

The ascetic habit and austere style of the Baptist, as 
we descry him amid the frowning solitudes of the 
Jordan, and see him with his feet washed by its dark 
waters, seem to promise something not in harmony 
with those cheering persuasive notes of mercy to man- 



312 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

kind we had lately listened to from heaven. And so 
in fact the preaching of John is found to be in " the 
spirit and power of Elijah"— a ministry of reproof— a 
piercing call to repentance ; and especially a sharp 
rebuke of national sanctimoniousness and corruption : 

or to say all in a word, the preaching of John was 

an energetic corrective of the hypocrisy and fanatical 
presumption of his countrymen. " Bring forth," ho 
cries, " fruits meet for repentance ; and think not to 
say to yourselves, * We have Abraham to our father ;' 
for 1 say to you that God is able of these stones to 
raise up children to Abraham ; "—Yes, although the 
Jewish race, with all its proud pretensions were swept 
from the face of the earth, Abraham should not want 
a spiritual progeny, for the Divine power would (as 
actually it did) instate the Gentiles in the privileges of 
the ancient church. The Baptist then, although as we 
catch a glimpse of him, while eagerly listened to by a 
promiscuous crowd, he may have the air of a virulent 
declaimer, is not such in fact ; for if we Vv^ill but draw 
near, and give attention to his discourse, we find him 
vigorously assailing the national arrogance, and we 
bear him humbling his hearers in their own esteem, by 
insisting on those capital articles of morality which had 
dropt olit of their scheme of punctilious and farcical 
piety.— Moreover he fails not to renounce for himself 
the honours which the people would have paid him:— 
but this surely bespeaks him a genuine prophet of the 
Lord, and proves that he was no aspiring sectarist. 

In the remarkable narrative of the temptation, the 
principal circumstance (bearing on our question) is an 
assertion, by our Lord, of the claim of God to human 
reverence, in contradiction of the impious homage 
which the Rebel Spirit falsely challenged to himself, 
as master of the world. The rebuke, "Get thee 
behind me, Satan," bore against all forms of polythe- 
istic superstition, the essence of which, under whatever 
guise, is a servile deference paid to malevolent invisible 
power. And this comprehensive condemnation of tbft 



NOT FANATICAL. 313 

worst of all errors was followed up, throughout the 
course of our Lord's ministry, by his exercising a 
rigorous control over the infernal legions : — The ma- 
lignant power was no longer to usurp the regards of 
mankind ; for a stronger arm than his had despoiled 
him of the " armour wherein he trusted ;" and hence- 
forward the Supreme Benevolence alone was to be 
looked to by man, as the object of hope and fear. 
The tendency of the New Testament is altogether to 
emancipate the human mind from its ancient thraldom 
to the invisible tyrants ; and it does this, not by affirm- 
ing the non-existence of such beings, but by exposing 
their guile, and by declaring their enchainment, under 
the hand of the Omnipotent Son of God. — In thus 
removing the grounds of superstition, Christianity, 
wherever it takes effect, dries up the source of fanat- 
icism, the virulence of which is drawn from the belief 
of a rjalevoloiit administration of human affairs.* 

Every form of religious rancour is implicitly 
reproved in the announcement which the Divine 
Dehverer makes, at an early stage of his public min- 
istry, of the purpose of God toward mankind ; — " The 
Father hath so loved the world as to give his only- 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should 
not perish, but have eternal hfe. For the Father sent 
not his Son into the world to condemn the world ; but 
that the world might be saved through him." — And 
again, when he declares that — " The Son of man is 
not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." 
Whether it be the self-tormenting rigour of the ascetic, 
or the deadly zeal of the Inquisitor, or the martial rage 
of the Moslem conqueror, or the crabbed bigotry of 
the modern dogmatist ; each is utterly condemned, 
and the specious pretexts of each are torn away, by 

* The subject of diabolical agency has been once and again alluded 
to, as connected with fanatical sentiments. Had it been possible to 
bring the question within narrow limits, the author would have given 
it a prorainent.place in the present volume. He proposes to treat it 
more distinctly in his projected work on Superstition. 



314 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

this first axiom of Christianity — That the Gospel is at 
once the expression, and the means of the Divine 
Benevolence toward mankind at large. Any 
zeal, therefore, which is not benign, is not a godly or 
Christian zeal ; rather, we should deem it an infernal 
impulse that drives on those who, under pretence of 
religion, torture themselves, or others, or indulge sen- 
timents of contempt and hatred toward mankind in 
the mass, or toward particular bodies of men : — if this 
be our spirit, it is not the spirit of Jesus ; — for he was 
" the Saviour of all men." It is Satan — not Christ, 
who is the author of cruelties, and the patron and 
upholder of sects. 

The broadest and the firmest foundation being thus 
laid in the Gospel for philanthropy (nothing more 
broad can be imagined) those condemnatory announce- 
ments which bear out the message of mercy are wholly 
deprived of the pernicious force that otherwise might 
have belonged to them. Nothing can destroy men, 
.we learn, but their final contempt of the Divine for- 
bearance. All men therefore are to be regarded as 
salvable ; and all are, in a genuine sense, the objects 
of the same Benevolence which has rescued ourselves 
from perdition. To give effect to this divine benevo- 
lence (so far as human agency may extend) is the part 
that belongs to Christians ; nor can any motive be 
authentic that will not freely play in concert with the 
unrestricted zeal of compassion. 

Our Lord in his discourse with the Samaritan 
woman throws open the gate of religious privilege to 
all nations ; — thus shutting out the Jewish arrogance, 
and at the same time securing the special authority of 
tnith, against a vague and spurious candour. *' Ye 
(Samaritans) know not what ye worship ; — for salva- 
tion is of the Jews." — It is they who are the keepers 
of the recorded will of Heaven ; it is from among 
them that shall spring up the new and universal 
religion. Nevertheless this new religion, although of 
Jewish birth, is not to be the property of the worship- 



NOT FANATICAL, 3 15 

pers at Jerusalem only ; but shall comprehend those 
of every country who " worship the Father in spirit 
and truth." — The Gospel advances always on a pre- 
cise line, nor must it ever be turned from the prescribed 
track. — Yet is this line "gone forth into all the world," 
and like the equatorial, must girt the globe. 

The motives of Christianity, like the powers of 
nature, produce their genuine fruits only in combina- 
tion : whoever severs, perverts them. Thus when it 
was said to the first promulgators of the Gospel, just 
about to " go forth as sheep among wolves" — " Happy 
are ye when men speak evil of you, and persecute you, 
and say all manner of evil of you falsely for my sake," 
this same self-congratulation w^hich it was lawful to 
admit under injurious treatment, might readily subside 
into a malign habit within the bosom of the oppressed 
sectarist, if it were not balanced by that other exhor- 
tation, soon subjoined, and so emphatically given — 
" Love your enemies ; bless them that curse you ; do 
good to them that hate you ; and pray for them that 
despitefully use you and persecute you." — The fanatic 
divides these counteractive elements of feeling. — He 
blesses himself in the presumption of Divine favour, 
and if he does not loudly curse his persecutor, mutters 
an anticipation of the wrath that is to fall upon " the 
enemies of God." — To love his enemy, and heartily to 
wish him well, is a point of virtue he scarcely pretends 
to. The rule of Divine forgiveness brings these very 
same motives into close contact. Sternly is it declared 
that he who grants no pardon to others, shall receive 
none for himself. The vindictive religionist avoids the 
application of the rule to his own case, only by re- 
nouncing the supposition of personal guilt : — he who 
has no sin, needs not show indulgence. And thus in 
fact we find an egregious conceit of the favour of God 
towards himself, to be always the germ of the rancor- 
ous sentiments of the bigot. 

If at any time our Lord — " meek and lowly" as he 
was, assumed the tones of indignant reproof, we find 



316 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

it on those occasions precisely when the sanctimonious 
and fanatical Scribe, Pharisee, and Lawyer, stood 
before him ; — not when surrounded by the publicans 
and sinners of the people. Never before had haughty 
and hollow religionism received so severe a reprimand 
as that reported by the Evangelist,* in which not 
merely is the veil rent from the face of hypocrisy ; but 
the culprit's false heart is laid open, and the double- 
edged knife pierces to the " dividing asunder of the 
joints and marrow ;" — nay, the very " thoughts and 
intents of the soul" are exposed to the gaze of all. 
Neither is the hypocrite or the fanatic spared, although 
found among the chosen followers of the Lord. — 
" Have not I chosen you twelve," said the Lord ; " and 
one of you is a devil ?" And how did he check the 
intemperate zeal of those of them who would have 
called down fire from heaven to avenge the inhospital- 
ity of certain Samaritans : — " Ye know not what 
spirit ye are of," And again, as if to shut out on every 
side a false temper in matters of religion, he defended 
the harmless trespass of his followers in the corn field, 
against the punctihous objection of the Pharisees. — 
" If ye had known what that meaneth, I will have 
mercy and not sacrifice, ye would not have condemned 
the innocent." Is not this answer the very antithesis 
of fanaticism ? does it not reach the core of spiritual 
acerbity ? 

So far as the public ministry of Christ may be 
termed criminative and severe, the object of it was 
that special disposition whence fanaticism takes its rise, 
namely — an affected zeal for the purity of religion, 
showing itself in a conceit of the Divine favour toward 
the zealot himself, and an envious contempt of the 
mass of mankind. These were in fact the character- 
istic vices of the time, and it was against these, and 
these only, that the Divine Teacher directed the vehe- 
mence of his reprehension. We say then that if a 

* Matt, xxiii. 



NOT FANATICAL. 317 

Spurious and malign zeal is found to be the national 
fault of the Jewish people, at the era of Christianity, 
the teaching of Christ, far from fomenting that perni- 
cious temper, in the most bold and unsparing manner 
condemned it. 

Yet we should look to those special occasions on 
which the temper of a Teacher, or the tendency of a 
system makes itself apparent in some incidental and 
indirect manner. Now we actually find an instance 
of this sort, and a very signal one, when the seventy 
delegates, after having borne their message through 
the towns of Jewry, returned to their Master with joy, 
saying — '• Lord, even the dsemons are subject unto us 
through thy name !" Natural exultation ! and yet the 
feeling whence it sprang was of a dangerous kind ; 
or at least was one that urgently demands to be coun- 
terpoised by raoti%'es of quite another order. How 
readily does the human imagination kindle at the 
thought of a near contact with Invisible Powers ! — 
and if moreover these Powers are thought of as malev- 
olent, the darkest and most terrible passions rush in 
to lend their force to the conceptions of evil. Should 
it happen too, at the same time, that an open triumph 
has been had over such beings, who long had made 
sport of human frailty, the gloomy excitement of the 
soul reaches its utmost point : — or it may do so. Were 
any such emotions actually rife in the bosoms of his 
followers — and we must not affirm it to be impossible, 
our Lord did by no means check the mischief in the 
manner which the frigid sceptic would approve ; — he 
did not avail himself of that fair occasion for rooting 
out of the minds of his disciples the belief altogether 
of malignant and hostile invisible power ; — far from it 
' — he solemnly authenticates that belief when he says — 
" I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven :" — and 
again — " I give you authority over all the power of 
The Enemy." But the sentiments of his followers 
were not to be left to rest at this point ; — their feelings 
were to be carried forward, as all genuine religious 

28* 



318 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

emotions should, into the bright region of hope, humif* 
ity, and pious gratitude. — " Notwithstanding in this 
rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you ; but 
rather rejoice because your names are written in hea- 
ven." To complete the transition from a less benign 
sentiment, to one more congenial with the spirit of the 
Gospel, Jesus uttered aloud a thanksgiving w^hich, by 
a manifest implication, conveyed a very humiliating 
lesson to the heart of the hearers. " I thank thee, O 
Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid 
these things from the wise and prudent, and hast 
revealed them unto habes /" If among the seventy 
there was found a proud, an ambitious, or a rancorous 
spirit, what rebuke could it have received more point- 
ed than the one involved in the terms of this address 
to heaven? Fanaticism can take no hold of the human 
mind until that child-like temper which Christ here 
affirms and supposes to be characteristic of his dis- 
ciples has been thrown off. 

Presenting itself as it does in the same connexion, 
we ought to notice that significant- — nay, severe re- 
proof of Jewish arrogance which the parable of the 
compassionate Samaritan conveys. — What irony more 
caustic than that of bringing upon the scene the Priest 
and Levite, of whom we catch a glimpse as they move 
off, wrapped in sacerdotal scrupulosity and pride ; 
while a Samaritan (hated name) comes up to furnish 
the lesson of piety and mercy ! We ought distinctly 
to conceive of the virulence of national feelings at the 
time, if we would understand the cutting force of this 
apologue. The parable of the Prodigal, in like man- 
ner, obliquely, but not obscurely assails the bad and 
grudging temper of the Jewish people, and holds forth, 
in figure, the very line of conduct which the zealots of 
that nation actually pursued when afterwards they 
saw " Sinners of the Gentiles" coming to the arms of 
Divine mercy, and numbered with the family of God. 
These incidental instances are pertinent to our subject, 
inasmuch as they shew the steady purpose of our Lord 



NOT FANATICAL. 319 

to place his doctrine and his system of morals in direct 
opposition to the existing sentiments of his country- 
men. — He mortified every fond prejudice, as well as 
reproved every scandal of the times. 

The difficult point of practical v^^isdom in the con- 
duct of a public instructor is always the management 
of those articles of faith that wear an adverse aspect 
one to the other. This is the stumbling stone of the 
presumptuous reasoner : — this the occasion of offence 
to the feeble ; — this the ordeal of discretion. Three 
or four such instances might be named ; but they are 
all by implication contained in the two main princi- 
ples — each fully and freely affirmed in the Christian 
system — namely. The Divine Benevolence — absolute 
as it is, and the Divine Justice, involving tremendous 
consequences to the human race. It is here that the 
iron-sinewed theologue, with his paper demonstrations, 
has outraged at once the Divine Character, and every 
natural sentiment of equity and goodness ; it is here 
that the murky fanatic shews his home to be the world 
of evil ; and it is here, on the other side, that those 
have stumbled and fallen who scruple not to make the 
Divine testimony nugatory whenever it offends them. 

How different was the style of the Divine Teacher 
in this instance, and in giving attention for a moment 
to his method, if we do no more, we shall catch a note 
or two of that celestial harmony which breathed in 
every word he spoke, and proclaimed him to be " from 
above." 

The then extant belief of the Jewish people (or the 
greater part of them) on the subject of future punish- 
ishment,* our Lord did not mitigate ; nor did he leave 
it where he found it ; but affirmed it anew, made it an 

* A knowledge of the opinions and modes of speaking prevalent 
among tlie Jews is necessary to a correct understanding of our Lord's 
language on this serious subject. Philo especially should be searched 
for this purpose. The doctrine he holds is of a very decisive character 

XXI |M.}jJf7r^ (r^sQ-&r)VXi ^vvetfAsv^}) . . . . De Prqfugis. 



320 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

inseparable part of his religion, and gave it his sanc^ 
tion in terms as distinct and irrefragable as language 
affords. Compared with Moses or with the prophets, 
or with other Religious Institutors, Christ might in a 
sense be called the Herald of Wrath. Not one of his 
ministers (so far as appears) came up to their Master 
in the fulness or the frequency of his announcement 
of the doom of the impertinent. They, though with 
firm.ness, yet with modesty and fear, assert the terroi's 
of Divine Justice ; but he speaks like one whose eye, 
piercing the thin veil of the material world, continu- 
ally gazed upon the mysteries of the unseen. The 
apostles spoke in the confidence of faith ; Christ with 
the vivacity of immediate knowledge. 

And yet, who like Jesus has manifested the glory of 
the Father, whose glory is love ? By what means 
then did he bear in his hands, together, these antagonist 
elements of religion ? Certainly it was not by labouring 
to extenuate at one time what he had too boldly affirm- 
ed at another. Never did he insinuate, or throw out 
as by chance, mitigations which the sceptic might 
catch up, and expand at his pleasure. Neither did he 
enter at any time upon exculpatory reasons in 
behalf of the divine administration of human affairs ; 
nor open the way to abstruse speculation, such as 
should establish the eternal consistencies of goodness 
and severity. Not a syllable did he furnish as text to 
the learned disquisitions that have entertained the 
schools. — In a word, our Lord made no direct provis' 
ion against those abuses or ill consequences that might 
flow from his doctrine. 

Nevertheless these ill consequences are in fact so 
counteracted, that Christianity, even by the admission 
of its enemies, taken as a whole, and taken as its 
Author left it, is bright and benign. The means by 
which the two elements of wrath and love are bal- 
anced, so far as they may be traced, bespeak the same 
wisdom that adjusts and balances the antagonist pow- 
ers of nature. The first and most obvious counterac- 



NOT FANATICAL. 321 

live means we have already had occasion (page 121— 
123) to speak of — namely, the invariable and intelligi- 
ble annexation of the threatened punishment to vicious 
acts, and to an impious life, so that the doctrine bears 
always directly upon the conscience, and gives its aid 
to virtue. 

In the next place, our Lord, without ever attempt- 
ing, on abstract ground to harmonize the divine attri- 
butes, exhibited the glory, beauty, and sweetness of 
the Paternal Creator, and Preserver, and Sovereign, 
in a manner never before thought of, and which can 
never be steadily contemplated by any human mind 
without imparting sentiments that effectually exclude 
morose or fanatical emotions. This is a countervail- 
ing provision, not formal indeed, but infallible, and of 
irresistible force. The providence of God, both uni- 
versal and particular, comprehensive and minute, the 
unremitted care of life, the regard to the wants, and 
fears, and hopes, and even comfort of all creatures, 
the constant attention to prayer, the special regard to 
the poor, the feeble, and the lowly, and the Divine 
forbearance toward the disobedient, — all these benign 
elements of theology form the prominent characteris- 
tics of the teaching of Christ. 

But how can we reconcile such exhibitions of ten- 
derness aad love with the actual facts, announced by 
the same Teacher, of the ruin and miseries of man ? 
The teacher himself, confiding in the real, though 
occult consistency of what he declares, and not 
anxious for consequences, throws out the two great 
principles, and leaves them to work as they may, 
within the human bosom. With that serenity which 
befits the Author of Christianity, as Author of all 
things, and Sovereign of the Universe, he puts in 
play each proper impulse of the moral economy. — - 
Purblind Philosophy may call them incompatible.- — 
Nature and Truth shall pronounce them one. 

We have yet to advance a step further. — So con- 
tracted and exclusive in its modes of feeling is the 



322 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

human mind, that if we converse much and long with 
terrible or afflictive conceptions, and heartily surrender 
ourselves to the impression of certain appalling facts, 
it is not easy to avoid becoming sullenly indifferent to 
the present sufferings of mankind ; as if it were of 
little moment what those are enduring in the present 
hfe, who must endure worse in the next. Not such 
were the sentiments of the Saviour of the world ; — 
no insensibility of this kind affected his human sympa- 
thies: He thought lightly of no pain or want that 
attaches to mortality : infirmity, or anguish, or hunger, 
he cared for, and relieved. — " He bare our infirmities^ 
and himself took our sicknesses." The benevolence 
of the Lord Jesus was like the radiance of the sun, 
which, while spreading itself over the broad fields of 
the universe, even to the utmost verge of nature, 
pervades also the most obscure recesses, penetrates 
every depth, and brings home warmth and joy to the 
meanest orders of the sentient world. 

Come to what conclusion we may, or let us be 
never so much perplexed in our fruitless endeavours 
to reach any conclusion that may fully reconcile 
opposing truths, the fact stands before us — a fact full 
of instruction, that He whose doctrine inspires us with 
extreme alarm on account of the great mass of our 
fellow^ men, nevertheless, when in the desert he looked 
upon the multitudes that had left their homes to follow 
him, " had compassion upon them," and would by no 
means leave them to suffer even a transient hunger 
and fatigue. The same spirit pervades every action ; 
he healed — " as many as were brought unto him," he 
rejected none; — he made no conditions; but dispensed 
good with a royal facility, as well as with sensitive 
tenderness. Nor did the momentous importance of 
his public work alienate him from the suavities of 
personal friendship. Still we find no theologic expli- 
cation of the apparent contrariety of Love and Justice ; 
but instead of it, are presented with a living exemplar 
of the harmony of the two. 



NOT FANATICAL. 323 

Another striking characteristic of our Lord's senti- 
ments, as exhibited in his mode of teaching, bears 
directly upon our subject. — This is the style and 
materials of his tropes and apologues. If the imagi- 
nation be susceptible of vivid impressions, it is scarcely 
possible to entertain frequently conceptions of terror 
without losing the taste or the faculty that finds 
recreation among the gay beauties and simple charms 
of nature. Fruits and flow^ers, bright skies and rustic 
occupations, retain no hold of the spirit that often 
takes its flight through the abyss of horrors. To stoop 
and to gather illustrations, and to do so by habit, from 
the garden and the field, and from the humble labours 
of domestic life, has never been the manner of those 
who have borne heavy tidings to their fellow men — 
even when their motive has been sincere and benevo- 
lent ; much less of the ireful reformer, the glance of 
whose eye seems to scathe whatever dares to look 
green and happy. 

Yet it was not so with Jesus. When we bear in 
mind the ordinary alliance of the moral sentiments with 
the imagination, and think how naturally subjects of a 
vast and afflictive order cloud the mind, and impart to 
it an inflexible rigour, we must contemplate with 
amazement, in our Lord's discourses and parables, the 
junction of elements seemingly the most incongruous. 
— What more appalling — what, if indeed we follow it 
to its meaning, what more distracting to the heart, 
than the affirmations vi^hich often conclude a series of 
parables that has brought together the smiling beauties 
of the visible creation, and the gentle familiar suavities 
of common life ! Considered as literature merely, our 
Lord's discourses, as well public as private, take their 
place, not along with the vehement and impassioned 
harangues of orators ; but with the mildest and most 
attractive class of pastoral and dramatic compositions. 
Yet what were the truths that stretched a dark and 
deep foundation beneath this fair superstructure of 
heavenly wisdom ? — truths which, when vividly per- 



224 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

ceived by other men, have absorbed the soul, and 
given a sombre colour to every sentiment. Novs^here, 
except in the discourses recorded by the Evangelists, 
do v^^e hear such mingled tones of terror and sweet- 
ness issuing from the same lips. The apostles, though 
raised above the common level by the Spirit that dwelt 
in them, yet never reached, nor even approached, the 
elevation of their Master. Their style was human ; 
and the weighty matters of their message to mankind 
so pressed upon their hearts that they became, in some 
measure, abstracted from the smaller interests of life, 
and insensible to the graces of nature. Their language, 
though figurative, is always urgent and grave, and 
befitting men whose task is felt by themselves to sur- 
pass their powers. 

The graceful serenity and happy ease of our Lord's 
mode of teaching should command our profound 
attention, first as an indirect yet irresistible evidence 
(we should say manifestation) of his divinity, and 
of his absolute superiority to all other teachers ; 
and secondly, as involving a proof, far better 
than any metaphysic demonstration could be, of the 
interior consistency of the benignity and justice of 
God. The more we meditate upon this subject the 
more shall we be convinced that it furnishes all we 
ought anxiously to wish for in the way of explication 
of the Divine attributes. He in whom were concen- 
trated these very attribues — He whose purity was the 
purity of God, and whose compassion was the com- 
passion of God, is heard to utter, in one and the same 
breath, the language of inflexible Justice and of abso- 
lute Love. Holiness and benevolence then are one; 
and we should be content to confide implicitly in such 
a proof that they are so. 

But we must now turn from the Master to his 
Disciples. 

There may fairly be room to ask whether, after their 
Master had left them, and when they became the objects 
of the fury of their countrymen, and entered fresh upon 
a field of extraordinary excitements, the first disciples 



NOT FANATICAL. 326 

shaintained meekness and charity of temper; or 
yielded to those emotions which similar circumstances 
have too often awakened. A question like this must 
be determined, not by the formal testimony of the 
parties in their own cause ; but by inferences drawn 
from incidental allusions, or casual expressions. And 
is it credible that a company of men really exorbitant 
in their modes of thinking, and gloomy or malign in 
their tempers, should hand down to posterity a collec- 
tion of memoirs and letters, such as shall convey no 
indication of the passions that were working in their 
bosoms ? This were indeed the greatest of miracles, 
and we reject, without scruple, the supposition that it 
might be true. 

As in the eye of irreligious men any degree of feel- 
ing in matters of religion is enthusiasm, so must the 
same persons deem any sort of zeal in the propaga- 
tion of it fanatical. If it be enthusiasm to pray, it is 
certainly fanaticism to travel from city to city, troub- 
ling men's minds by announcements of future judgment; 
and how much more fanatical, to encounter stripes 
and imprisonments in such a course, or actually to 
meet a violent death, rather than abandon the enter- 
prise of converting mankind to a system of opinions ! 
If now it be enthusiastic for a man to account the 
service and worship of God the main business of his 
life, unquestionably the course of conduct pursued by 
the first propagators of the Gospel, as well as by all 
who have since trodden in their steps, was preposter- 
ous. But if the Gospel be indeed from Heaven, our 
estimation of men and things must obey another rule. 
In this case it must be granted, that whatever might 
be the immediate consequences of the agitations they 
excited, and even although the public tranquility was 
much disturbed in all quarters of the Roman empire 
by their preaching, nevertheless the pertinacious zeal 
of the apostles was strictly reasonable, and their for- 
titude and courage in the best sense magnanimous. 
There still however remains a question which may be 

29 



326 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

prosecuted even after this general admission has been 
made, namely, whether the apostles and their com- 
panions, in fulfilling the extraordinary part assigned to 
them, at all forgot personal moderation, charity, and 
benevolence ; or do we find them, when placed in 
circumstances of peculiar excitement, acrimonious, 
vindictive, ungovernable ? In a word, is their lan- 
guage and conduct that of fanatics, or such only as 
well became good and honest men, commissioned to 
establish in the world, at any cost to themselves, the 
great principles of piety ? 

The hour of trial for the temper of the disciples of 
Christ was when, after having got possession of the 
popular favour, it rested with themselves either to fan 
the kindling fliame of national feeling, and turn it vin- 
dictively upon the rulers (a course which evidently 
these rulers apprehended as probable*) or to avail 
themselves of the attention they then commanded, 
for the purpose of enforcing the spiritual objects of 
their ministry. If the readiness of the Jewish rabble, 
at this period, to obey every violent impulse be con- 
sidered, and it be recollected too, that the apostles 
were themselves men of the low^er class, and destitute 
of motives of policy, and moreover, very lately, like 
their countrymen, filled with expectations of secular 
aggrandizement; — if we bear in mind that Peter, 
James, and John, the rustics of Galilee, were, only 
a few weeks before the day of Pentecost, dreaming of 
temporal dignities — palaces and regal splendour, we 
are then qualified to estimate fairly the language held 
by them when surrounded by the thousands of the 
people that thronged the precincts of the temple. 
Not only do we find no tampering with the national 
passions of the multitude, but the tide of feeling was 
sent in upon every man's personal sense of guilt ; — the 
the most effectual of all means this, of assuaging 



♦ " Behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend 
to bring this man's blood upon us." Acts v. 28. 



NOT FANATICAL. 327 

tumultuous excitements. Nor were even the just 
feelings of indignation worked upon by the use of 
acrimonious terms. On the contrary, the most indul- 
gent construction which the facts admitted was put 
upon the sanguinary act of those who had crucified 
" the Holy One — the Lord of Glory." " And now 
brethren," says Peter, " I wot that through ignorance 
ye did, as did also your rulers. — Repent, therefore, 
and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out. 
— For God, having raised up his son Jesus, hath sent 
him TO BLESS YOU, in turning away every one of you 
from his iniquities." 

Assuredly this is not the language either of dema- 
gogues, or of fanatics ! Whoever would affirm it to 
be so must entertain strange notions of human nature, 
and be ignorant too of history. The demagogue 
never extenuates the conduct of the authorities he is 
aiming to overthrow ; — the fanatic does not bless, but 
curse. The same simplicity of intention, reaching just 
to the point of firmness and fidelity, but not going 
beyond it, is conspicuous in Peter's behaviour before 
the rulers: — he adhered to his instructions — the 
instructions of heaven ; yet neither defied his judges, 
nor railed upon them ; but, appealing to their common 
sense, left himself in their hands. " Whether it be 
ri^ht in the sight of God to hearken unto you, more 
than unto God, judge ye." 

The pattern of behaviour thus set by the apostles 
on the first occurrence of persecution, was adhered to 
in all those instances which come within the range of 
the canonical history. The story is ever the same ; — 
on the one part, a furious intolerance and cruelty ; on 
the other, firmness, simplicity, and patient endurance 
of wrong. Thus it was that the protomartyr shewed 
of whom he had learned the lesson of meekness, when 
dying under the hands of a ruffian mob, he exclaimed, 
" Lord, lay not this sin to their charge ! " 

In Luke's memoirs we soon lose sight of Peter and 
his companions, and must look to their epistles for 



328 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

evidence on the question whether, through a course of 
years, their spirits remained unhurt by persecutions 
and contempt. Was the patience of these preachers 
at length worn out ; or did they become as they grew 
old, captious and imperious, within the church ; and 
turbulent and morose without it ? It is natural to 
turn first to the epistles of Peter, both on account of 
his official preeminence in the apostolic college, and 
because the impetuosity of temper which the evangelic 
narrative attributes to him, would make it probable 
that, if any of the twelve overstepped the line of 
meekness and moderation, he would be the one. 

Whatever difference of spirit may present itself in 
comparing the evangelic history of Peter's early con- 
duct with the writings that convey the sentiments of 
his matured mind, this alteration ought to be attributed 
to the gradual influence of the system of opinions he 
had embraced; and if we are asking, What was the 
tendency of that system ? nothing can be more fair 
than to mark its operation upon a mind so peculiarly 
susceptible of strong excitements. Thus for example, 
if, notwithstanding the existence of certain formal 
precepts of a contrary aspect, the real operation of 
Christianity had been of a kind to cherish contuma- 
cious, ambitious, or virulent dispositions, nothing could 
have prevented the display of that result, after it had 
been ripened by the various occasions and trials of 
thirty years. Chief of the new sect, and distinguished 
among his colleagues by the delegation to his hands of 
certain awful powers, Peter, vehement and heady, 
would have become arrogant, jealous in the defence 
of his supremacy, and (like prelates of after ages) a 
strenuous asserter of apostolic authority. This we 
say, must infallibly have happened, human nature 
being the same in that age as in every other, if the 
natural operation of common motives had not been 
effectively counteracted by the system to which this 
ardent spirit was devoted. It is in fact, a circum- 
stance highly remarkable, that neither of the epistles 



NOT FANATICAL. 329 

of Peter contains the slightest alhision to the special 
distinction conferred upon him by his Master; nor 
indeed any general assertion of the sovereign dignity 
of the apostolic office. Humility itself breathes its 
sweetness in that one passage which refers to pastoral 
power.* Or if we do not feel at once the full force 
of this proof of the meekness and simplicity that the 
Gospel engendered, let us place these epistles by the 
side of some specimens of episcopal letters, belonging 
to the second and third centuries. 

We well know what are those points of collision 
that bring fire from the soul of the fanatic: — the 
power and cruelty of the oppressor he can speak of 
only in terms of sympathetic rancour. But it was not 
thus that Peter refers to the authorities under which 
Christians had already suffered the most exasperating 
injuries ; nor was it in any such mood that he laid 
down the rule of patience in tribulation, wrongfully 
inflicted. It is quite certain — or as certain as any 
moral evidence founded on the constant laws of the 
moral world can make it — That the aged writer of the 
two epistles in question had not received an aggrava- 
tion of the native faults of his character from Christ- 
ianity ; but on the contrary, that these tendencies 
were corrected, nay dispelled by its operation. Evi- 
dence of this sort can never approach nearer to 
conclusiveness than it does in the instance before us ; 
and we hesitate not to draw from it an absolute 
historic inference — That the Gospel, such as it was in 
the age of Peter, had no malign or fanatical quality. 

♦ " Your Presbyters I exhort, who am a fellow-presbyter, &c. . . . 
Keep the fold of God — exercising the episcopal office not from com-, 
pulsion ; but readily and piously, y.ar^ $eov '■ neither from sordid 
motives, but in the spirit of fervour; nor yet as domineering over the 
heritage (^rSv ;cA>];j.«v)."— Thus speaks the "Prince of the Apostles" 
—the "Vicar of Christ"— the " holder of the keys"— the "first Sove, 
reign Pontiff;"— yes, the leader of the Popes !— and the predecessor 
of the Gregorys, the Innocents, the Leos, the Alexanders, of Rome J 

A style far more becoming to ghostly lords than that of the Apostle 
was very soon adopted by Church dignitaries, a sample of which will 
properly be adduced on a future occasion. 

29* 





330 ^ RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

_jv , A very peculiar style, and a peculiar spirit too, 
N^ .distinguish the Epistle of James. Besides the vigour, 
spirit, and simple majesty of the language, which 
carries us back to the age of the prophets, there is, 
throughout it, a bold and strait-forward good sense 
that scatters at a stroke the pretexts of hypocrisy, and 
the illusions of religious conceit. This venerable 
writer enters the Church, scourge in hand, to drive 
thence those corruptions which most readily find a 
lodgment under sacred roofs. Nevertheless the mode 
of reproof, and its terms, bespeak affection, as much 
as fidelity. James is severe, or rather penetrating ; 
but not acrid or virulent. Especially he assails the 
characteristic faults of the Jewish mind — the religious 
arrogance, presumption, and laxity ; — the asperity of 
mutual crimination, and that disposition (so remark- 
able in this people, and the parent of faction) to 
assume, individually, a vindictive and intolerant juris- 
diction over other men's conduct and opinions. If 
among the Jewish converts, as is probable from other 
evidence, the bad passions that infest spurious piety 
were then making their appearance in the infant 
Church, this apostolic writer at once discerned the 
incipient mischief, and employed all his energy for its 
exposure and repression. 

The pretexts of hollow piety are the main subjects 
of the epistle of James ; but a single passage, of a 
different purport, catches the eye, in which the ene- 
mies of the Gospel are brought under rebuke. " Go 
to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your 
miseries that shall come upon you. — Ye have con- 
demned and killed the just, and he doth not resist 
you." If this commination be viewed in a general 
light only, as applicable to all instances of oppressive 
arrogance, it will come under the rule that is applica- 
ble to very many passages of the Scriptures, in which 
God, the Friend and Avenger of the poor and needy^ 
utters, by the mouth of the prophet, the fierceness of 
his displeasure against the proud and the rapacious:— 



NOT FANA.TICAL. 33 i 

the style, the terms, and the matter of blame, are 
altogether in harmony with what we find so frequently 
in Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the minor prophets. This 
language then, of stern condemnation, is not to be 
attributed to the writer as characteristic of his personal 
dispositions, until we have disproved his claim to be 
considered as the messenger of Heaven. 

But there is room to believe that a more special 
reference is contained in the passage. The epistle 
was written, as it seems, a few years only (not more 
than eight) before the destruction of Jerusalem, and 
at a time when, forewarned as they had been by the 
Lord, and probably in a manner more explicit than 
appears in the Gospels, the Apostles could entertain 
no doubt of the near approach of the awful catastro- 
phe of the nation. The signs of the coming desola- 
tion, were then gathering upon the heavens. — James, 
head of the Church at Jerusalem, and constantly resi- 
dent there, could not look upon the infatuated Rulers 
of the people without descrying, as if inscribed upon 
the front of their pride and sumptuous magnificence, 
the divine sentence of reprobation, which so soon was 
to take effect. — He beheld these men adding to all 
their other crimes, the deeper guilt of rejecting the 
Messiah, and of persecuting his followers. — How then 
could he be silent when he saw Christians themselves, 
with a servile easiness, flattering the very persons 
upon whom the wrath of Heaven w^as just about to 
alight ? — Do not, he asks, these same arrogant chiefs 
oppress you, and draw you before the judgment seats? 
and is it in deference even to your persecutors, that 
ye despise the poor, and thrust him down in your 
assemblies to the place of contempt ? — What is this 
but implicitly to take part with the enemies of Christ, 
against yourselves ? The disposition to pay court to 
the profligate and cruel masters of Israel must be 
checked ; — and it is effectively checked in the passage 
which announces the unparalleled miseries that soon 
after fell upon the Jewish people. And yet the infer- 



332 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

ence urged upon Christians is one of forbearance, not 
of revenge. "Be ye also patient, stablish your hearts; 
for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh." And it 
was an inference too of peace and kindness among 
themselves. " Grudge not one against another, 
brethren, lest ye be condemned. — Behold the Judge 
standeth before the door." 

The severity of Jude, like that of James, is aimed, 
not at the mass of mankind, but at the Christian com- 
munity itself, and employed chiefly to expose and 
condemn those very disorders whence fanaticism takes 
its rise. There had " crept in unawares" among the 
Christians, men, not only of dissolute life, but of vain, 
turbulent, and factious dispositions, who "despised 
dominion — spoke evil of dignities, and of things they 
understood not" — who, from the wildness and un- 
profitable exorbitancy of their minds, were not unfitly 
described as " clouds without water, carried about of 
winds ; raging waves of the sea, foaming out their 
own shame ; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the 
blackness of darkness for ever." These men were 
" separatists" also, and seem to have wanted little or 
nothing which might entitle them to rank with the 
most virulent or debauched of those who aftervi^ards 
made the name of Jew a shame and terror through 
the world. It is manifest that the Jewish fanaticism, 
which was then fast reaching its height, spread itself 
by contagion within the precincts of the primitive 
church : this was only natural. All we have to do 
with is the treatment which the incursive evil received 
from the Apostles. On this point the short epistle of 
Jude affords the most satisfactory evidence. — Is it 
severe ? yes, but the occasion was urgent ; for there 
seemed not a little danger lest, by its mere proximity, 
the Christian body should be drawn into the vortex of 
the national frenzy, and swallowed in the whirlpool 
of its guilt and ruin. Yet if Jude be severe, where 
severity was necessary, he forgot not, as passionate 
reprovers so often do, discrimination and tenderness. 



NOT FANATICAL. 333 

" Of some," says he, " have compassion, making a 
difference : and others save with fear, plucking them 
oat of the fire." The fanatic deals rather in sweeping 
condemnations. 

Although it may seem peculiarly superfluous to 
prove that the writings of John are of mild and 
benign tendency, yet there is a ground on which even 
these may properly come under our examination. It 
is w^ell known that very serious corruptions have often 
sprung from modes of thinking apparently the most 
pure, or sublime ; — just as mighty rivers descend upon 
the common level of the world from heights that over- 
look the clouds, and w^here there are no storms to ieed 
them. Human nature will not well bear to be lifted 
to a stage much above that of ordinary motives, or to 
be cut of from all correspondence with such motives. 
The dangerous experiment has been tried a thousand 
times, and has always failed : — it is tried anew in every 
age by lofty enthusiastic minds. Now, at a hasty 
glance, it might seem as if the first epistle of John (a 
treatise rather than an epistle) was of that very sort 
which engenders a supramundane or abstracted style 
of piety ; and so, although itself free from rancorous 
ingredients, might, at second or third hand, become 
the source of unsocial feelings. Abstract or philo- 
sophic love is but another name for visionary selfish- 
ness ; so it has proved in the instance of mystics of all 
sects. 

But in such cases it will be found that the system 
of sentiment has been made to rest upon dogmas, 
metaphysic or abstruse, and hard to be expressed in 
familiar terms. — The " pure love of God," and of " all 
creatures in him," has been a stagnation of the soul, 
reflecting from its dead surface, not the smiling and 
various landscape around ; but the mere vacancy of 
the skies. Has then the divine love which John de- 
scribes and recommends, any such character of sub- 
tilty or refinement ; or does it rest at all upon a theo- 
retic basis ? Every reader of the catholic epistle must 



334 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

confess that it is not so. In the first place the singu- 
larly inartificial structure of this composition (so unlike 
the elaborate rhapsodies of the mystic) contradicts 
the supposition, and so does the homeliness of the 
style, which, instead of recommending itself to the 
fastidious taste of sensitive recluses, seems specially 
adapted to the uninstructed class of readers. But the 
main circumstance of distinction is this — That the very 
drift of the whole treatise — the point which, at all events 
is to be secured, and which rises to view in each para- 
graph, till it seems a tautology, is, that no profession of 
love to God can for a moment be admitted as genuine, 
or as better than " a lie," if it does not constantly and 
consistently prove itself to include the love of benevo- 
lence towards all around us. " He that loveth not his 
brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God 
whom he hath not seen?" Now this plain appeal to 
common sense is a concise refutation of the principle 
of mystic religion, which we find to be, that what is 
occult, is always more worthy than what is sensible or 
visible. But St, John makes what is occult subordinate 
to what is visible. Or it might be said that he utterly 
sets at naught and spurns all modes of religious senti- 
ment that are too sublime to be measured by the very 
simplest maxims of common virtue. " My little chil- 
dren, let us not love in w^ord, neither in tongue ; but 
in deed and in truth." — Or if an exhortation so clear 
needed a comment, Vv^e find it at hand : — " Whoso hath 
this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and 
shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how 
dwelleth the love of God in him ?" 

The epistle of John ought then to be regarded not 
as a germ of mysticism : but on the contrary, as a 
plain and pointed caution against every form of hyper- 
bolic piety. The ultimate reason of this caution is 
not indeed the one which secular men will approve ; 
for it does not assume all elevated and intense emo- 
tions fixed on unseen objects to be absurd or perni- 
cious. Far otherwise ; for the apostle carries the no- 



NOT FANATICAL. 335 

tion of true piety to the very highest point, even to 
that height of " perfect love," which " casteth out 
fear." — But while he does so, he employs all his force 
in strengthening the connexion (which the Mystic 
labours to weaken) between the offices of pity and 
charity, and those exalted motives that should animate 
virtue. — In a word, the religion of John is not abstruse, 
but intelligible ; not theoretic, but practical ; not mo- 
nastic, but domestic : — ^^it is the very religion which the 
SofFee, and the Platonist, and the Pietist, and the Monk, 
spurn as vulgar, or natural, in comparison with his 
own, which he declares to be " celestial." 

To the " beloved disciple" was assigned the task of 
closing the sacred canon, and of setting the apostolic 
seal upon the religion of Christ after the lapse of a 
period which saw it exposed to perils of every kind. 
The most serious and fatal corruptions had in fact, 
before the death of John connected themselves with 
the new profession, and had drawn towards it ; — just 
as smaller bodies, and the scum and the w^recks of 
things, rush into the wake of a stately vessel that rap- 
idly plows the waves. Before the close of the first 
century there was much room to fear that certain im- 
pious and licentious doctrines, bred in the east, should 
so far borrow (or rather steal) recommendations from 
the Gospel, as to bring the Gospel itself into disrepute, 
as well as to pervert many of its followers. The most 
decisive measures on the part of those who watched 
for the welfare of the community, were absolutely 
necessary to preserve the very existence of the Church 
amid these dangers. The Gnostic, the Cerinthian, and 
others of the like order, Vv^ere to be deprived of the 
aid and credit they drew from the name of Christ. — 
" If there come any unto you, and bring not the doc- 
trine (already known and authenticated) receive him 
not into your house, neither bid him God speed." Sa- 
cred truth must, when put in peril, be preferred to 
courtesy or hospitality ; and he who will be the friend 
of all, at whatever cost, or by means of whatever 



336 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

compromise, possesses rather the semblance of charity 
than its substance. We ought, on this rule, to keep 
in mind the distinction between a necessary firmness, 
or even severity, in preserving the outworks of reli- 
gion, and that churlish rigidity which impels a man 
to become a sectarist. The first is known by its taking 
its stand alw^ays on capital or primary and well under- 
stood principles ; — the second, by its zeal for whatever 
is secondary, unimportant, unintelligible, and ambigu- 
ous. 

The most signal and significant of the instances that 
belong to the review now in hand remains to be con- 
sidered. 

If the natural disposition of Peter, such as it betrays 
itself in the Gospels, would lead us to look narrowly 
to the turn which Christianity gave to his sentiments 
and conduct, the temper of Paul, much more, invites 
scrutiny, inasmuch as he makes his entry upon the 
stage of church history in the very character of a fan- 
atic ; — a fanatic too, not by accident or external in- 
ducement, or secular interest, but by the vehemence 
of his spirit, and the original bias of his mind. That 
the business of persecution was undertaken by this ex- 
traordinary youth freely, is made evident by what we 
afterwards see to have been his character ; for Paul, 
it is certain, was no subservient being — no tool, and 
not the man to receive direction from others. Zeal so 
furious, in so young a bosom, must be held to mark the 
native disposition ; and perhaps few of those who 
have figured on the ensanguined theatre of religious 
cruelty — from Antiochus to our own Bonner or Laud, 
would have been able to support their claims to a 
bad preeminence by the side of Saul of Tarsus, if the 
dazzling light of heaven had not met him on his way 
to Damascus, and turned the course of his life, as well 
as changed his heart. The definition of Fanatic wants 
little which it does not find in this instance, if we as- 
sume as our guide the brief narrative of his early con- 
duct, as commented on by himself. The question pre- 



FANATICAL. 337 

sents itself then, concerning this Fanatic-born — did 
Christianity amend, or did it aggravate his disposition ? 

There are on record a few instances of sudden and 
extraordinary conversions which have passed over the 
moral faculties with the force of a hurricane, or of an 
inundation, sweeping away almost every trace of what 
heretofore had marked the character : — the man has 
not remained after the change what he was, in any other 
sense hardly than that of bare physical identity. — The 
warrior and prince, for example, laying down his pride, 
his plumes, his schemes of empire, and his insatiate pas- 
sions, has become a self-denying, inane monk ! — the 
lips which a while ago uttered thunders and made 
kingdoms tremble, lisp pater-nosters through the dull 
watches of the night ; and the eyes that shot fire in 
the bloody combat, are moistened with feeble tears, 
or peruse the floor of a cell ! Now it is especially to 
be noted that the conversion of Saul was not of this 
sort ; — it was no dissolution of nature. If we had 
met him (uninformed of what had happened) some 
years after the change in his course of life, and having 
known him before it took place, we should perhaps 
scarcely have divined the fact from his manner or ap- 
pearance. — The same animation — the same spirit and 
impetuosity — the very same sparkle of the eye ; the 
same indefatigable industry and impatience of rest. 
We should have seen indeed that the labours and 
cares of active life had marked his features ; but as- 
suredly should not have said that the bright promise of 
energy and intelligence had been blighted, or had pass- 
ed off, into a dull and flaccid imbecility. 

The narrative contained in the Acts of the Apostles 
abundantly proves that Paul's conversion, though it 
turned the current of his native energy, did not in any 
degree dry it up. Nor even did his submission to the 
maxims of the Gospel (curbing the irascible passions 
as they do) render him so tame or passive in matters 
of civil right and privilege as perhaps might have 
been imagined. The instances are of a remarkable 

30 



338 RELIGION OF THE BIBLXI 

kind, and they serve to demonstrate that, while 
receiving meekly the most extreme ill-treatment which 
his profession of Christianity brought upon him, and 
from which Roman law afforded no relief, he never 
lost sight of any judicial distinction that might avail to 
skreen him from lawless rage, or magisterial tyranny. 

Neither was Paul's spirit as a man broken, nor his 
sensibilities blunted, nor the vigour and fine finish of 
his understanding impaired, by his change of princi- 
ples. His speeches on public occasions afford con- 
vincing proof to the contrary, in each of these partic- 
ulars ; and when brought into comparison, one with 
another, present a very rare example of the faculty 
which enables a man to adapt himself, at a moment, 
to the prejudices or capacities of the persons he 
addresses : or, if separately viewed, they give evi- 
dence of the possession of powers not often assembled 
ia the same individual. — There is found in them the 
indications of fire and sensitiveness, conjoined with 
self-command, courage, and moderation. — There is 
an immoveable attachment to principles, together with 
the most flexible accommodation of the mode and 
subject of discourse to the personal or national feel- 
ings of all parties ; — and a rare fecundity — we might 
say exuberance of mind, along with the strictest 
adherence to the ultimate point towards which, from 
the first, he tends. 

The actual influence of Christianity, such as it was 
in its first era, is then subjected to an experimentum 
crucis in the case of the Apostle of the Gentiles. Idle 
would it be to say — Such and such dogmas or motives, 
belonging to the Gospel, or implied in it, and afiirmed 
in the epistles of Paul, could not fail to have a malig- 
nant or uncharitable influence. In refutation of any 
hypothetic argument of this sort, we boldly make our 
appeal to an example that wants nothing to render it 
conclusive. — Christianity found Saul of Tarsus a fan- 
atic, both by temper and habit : — a life of privations 
and injuiies naturally exacerbates a fiery disposition, 



NOT FANATICAL. 239 

and beyond doubt, "Paul the aged" would have 
become one of the sternest and most implacable of 
fanatics the world has seen, if the system he embraced 
had actually favoured that order of feeling; or in 
truth, if it had not exerted a mighty efficacy alto- 
gether, of an opposite kind. We turn then, for a 
moment, to his epistles. And with our particular 
object in view, it is natural to distribute them in three 
classes, the first consisting of those which exhibit the 
doctrines and duties of religion in an abstract form, or 
without specific reference to parties or occasions. The 
second comprising those that bear upon the disorders 
or controversies existing in certain communities ; and 
the third — including the private and clerical epistles. 
I. Of the FIRST CLASS, the most general, or imper- 
sonal, is the epistle to the Hebrews ; and the fact 
which meets us at a glance, as pertinent to our inquiry, 
though of a negative kind, ought not to be slighted.— 
The elaborate argument of this treatise is addressed 
to the Jewish converts to Christianity ; — now when a 
man has broken himself off from a communion of 
which once he was the zealous supporter, and especi- 
ally if he have received cruel injuries from his former 
friends, it is almost a constant thing to find him casting 
contempt upon the system he has renounced, and 
taking a position as remote as possible from the one 
whence hil irritated opponents assail him. And why 
should not the rule hold good in the instance before us? 
Spurned and persecuted by the Jewish authorities, and 
made the minister of an economy which avowedly 
was to supersede the ancient dispensation, what would 
have been more natural than that he should exult over 
the falling fabric of the Mosaic law, and indulge in 
the bitterness and irony common to controversy, and 
especially to controversy in the hands of a renegade. 
But in contrariety to any such supposition, the epistle 
to the Hebrews renders a homage to the Mosaic insti- 
tutions, and to the principles and practices of the 
Jewish religion, as cordial and full, as could have 



340 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

been offered by Gamaliel himself. The difference 
between Paul and Gamaliel related only to the inten- 
tion, or to the interpretation of the Law, and its rites. 
The Pentateuch sustains no disparagement in the 
hands of the apostle, who though he was preaching to 
all nations an economy which implies the abrogation 
of that of Moses, would not erect the new upon the 
ruins of the old ; but rather builds the new upon the 
old, as its immovable foundation. If at all he incul- 
pates the ancient institute, he does so only in compli- 
ance with a divine declaration, to that effect, uttered 
long before : — " If that first covenant had been fault- 
less, then should no place have been sought for the 
second. For finding fault with them, he saith. Behold 
the days come, saith the Lord, when I will make a 
new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the 
house of Judah." 

And if the author of this treatise does not vilify 
the party he had left, neither does he flatter the party 
he had joined : not any of the spite on the one side, 
nor of the partiality on the other of the sectarist, is 
found in him. — " I have many things to say, and hard 
to be uttered, seeing ye are dull of hearing, and instead 
of making the progress which might have been expect- 
ed, have need to be taught afresh the very elements 
of your profession." And yet this reproof does not 
spring from a petulance which will be always finding 
fault, even with friends and favourites ; for the kindest 
expressions almost immediately follow. — "Beloved, 
we are persuaded better things of you : — God is not 
unrighteous, to forget your work and labour of love/* 

Not to insist upon several express admonitions to a 
peaceable and charitable behaviour, and to patience 
under persecution, we may safely affirm that a calm, 
erudite, and refined argument, such as that of this 
treatise, must be adjudged the product of a mind habit- 
ually serene, as well as devout, and of a mind which, 
even by the complication of its inferences, is proved 
to possess that equipoise of the understanding, whicb^ 



NOT FANATICAL. 341 

whether original or acquired, never consists with the 
prevalence of turbulent and rancorous passions. 

The epistle to the Romans, if in some respects more 
personal than that to the Hebrews, is yet, in the main, 
a theological and ethical treatise, rather than a letter, 
and is in the same way available as proof of the calm 
command which the writer retained of the reasoning 
faculty — a command very likely to be lost in a long 
course of perils, privations, changes of scene, injuri- 
ous treatment, and public labour ; even if the native 
temperament be tranquil, much more if it be suscep- 
tible of strong excitements. Is it to be believed that, 
if the youthful violence and bigotry of the writer had 
been kept alive by Christianity, the combined influence 
of original temper, a stimulating system of opinions, 
and a life like that of the persecuted Paul, would have 
left him, at sixty, a reasoner such as he appears in tlie 
epistle to the Romans ? 

Some kind of exaggeration or distortion of the prin- 
ciples of virtue characterises always fanaticism, and 
belongs to it under every modification. If at any time 
there arise a controversy between common sense and 
good morals on the one side, and some exorbitant and 
turgid pretension to heroic virtue on the other, no such 
event will ever happen as that the Fanatic should range 
himself on the side of the former, against the latter : — 
quite otherwise, and as if by irresistible attraction, 
does he pass over toward whatever is disproportioned, 
tumid, enormous, violent ; and as certainly he assails 
whatever is just and modest. With a like certainty 
do dense mephitic vapours subside into caverns and 
sepulchres; while inflammable gases mount to the 
upper sky. Now a controversy, precisely of this sort, 
was abroad in the age of the apostles. — The strait and 
rigid portion of the Jewish people had carried to the 
utmost extreme the national propensity to sanctimoni- 
ous pride, in contempt of every plain principle of 
morahty. The Jewish idea of virtue and piety, at that 
time, niight fitly be compared to the image one obtains 

30* 



342 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

of a distant temple or palace, when seen through a 
knotted and misshapen lens : — high and low are re- 
versed ; the pinnacles seem to prop the columns ; — 
the foundations are heaved aloft ; — chasms gape in the 
midst ; — every line is broken, and the wings are dis- 
joined from the body. In what manner then did 
Paul assail these illusions ? Not as a fanatic of some 
adverse school might have done, by opposing one ex- 
travagance to another. But (as we actually find in 
the first three chapters of the epistle to the Romans) 
by leading the minds of men back, in the most vigorous 
style of reprobatory eloquence, to the great principles 
of justice, continence, temperance, and piety. After 
solemnly asserting the righteous government of God, 
with what force does he bring home the unquestioned 
maxims of law upon the seared pride of the licentious 
and self-complacent Jew ! — " Behold, thou art called 
a Jew, and restest in the law, and makest thy boast of 
€k)d 1 — through breaking of the law dishonourest thou 
God ? — Thou teacher of the law, dost thou steal, com- 
mit adultery, and sacrilege ?" — This, we say, is sound 
reason, opposed to corruption, evasions and perversity ; 
and it carries ample proof of the integrity of the 
writer's understanding. 

But there is a test of character which yet remains 
to be sought for. Does then Paul use truth and reason 
as mere instruments of violence in assailing an adver- 
sary ? (for this is sometimes seen) does he drive with 
indiscriminate fury over the ground, sweeping all things 
before him, good and bad ? — In stripping his mistaken 
countrymen of their cloak of lies, does he rend away 
their garment also — their genuine advantage ? It is 
not so. After bringing his arraignment of national 
casuistry to a just conclusion — a conclusion utterly 
foreign to the modes of thinking then in vogue — 
namely, That the true circumcision "is that of the 
heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter, whose praise 
is not of men but of God ;" he takes up instantly the 
opposite position, which might seem to have been en- 



NOT PANATICAl. 343 

dangered, and becomes himself the advocate of Jewish 
distinctions, so far as they were valid. " What advan- 
tage then hath the Jew ? or what profit is there of 
circumcision ? — much every way." This is precisely 
the course of moderation ; — this is that gathering up 
of an argument on all sides, which a wise and tempe- 
rate man, who is labouring only for truth, will take 
care not to leave another to do for him. If this is to 
be deemed the style of the inflated and acrimonious 
Fanatic, or of the partisan and bigot, we must give up 
every attempt to establish distinctions, and must grant 
that all moral characteristics are nugatory. Let us 
only imagine ourselves to have heard the young Saul 
disputing against Christianity with his comrades, on 
his road to Damascus ; can we suppose that his argu- 
ment would have been balanced in any such equitable 
manner ? It is conspicuous and unquestionable that 
the Gospel, such as Paul found it, instead of fomenting 
in any way the natural intolerance of his temper, had 
actually restored the equilibrium of his mind, and had 
taught the zealot to be just ! 

To prove that all men stand on the very same 
level of guilt in the righteous estimation of the Impar- 
tial Judge, is an argument the fanatic lets alone, if he 
does not impugn it. — We shall never see him equaliz- 
ing pretensions of all sorts, in language such as follows. 
— " What then, are we better than they ? No, in no 
wise ; for we have before proved, both Jews and Gen- 
tiles, that they are all under sin. — All are gone out of 
the way — have become unprofitable ; — there is none 
that doeth good — no, not one !" This doctrine the 
fanatic places on some other ground than that of the 
universal principles of morality, and he always ap- 
pends to it some saving clause or evasion, such as 
shall turn aside from himself its humbling inference. 

But if, in Paul's account, condemnation be universal, 
grace is so too, at least in its aspect toward mankind, 
and in its proposals. — As there is no diflference in guilt, 
so is there none, either in the conditions of pardon, or 



344 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

in the eligibility of men to the Divine Favour. " Is 
God the God of the Jevs^s only ? Is he not of the Gen- 
tiles also ? Yes, of the Gentiles also." And it is now 
true, as the same writer expresses it in another place, 
that, under the banner of Christ, there are no exclu- 
sions and no peculiarities. — " Greek and Jew, barbar- 
ian, Scythian, bond and free, are all one in Christ 
Jesus :" or to use the equivalent language of another 
Apostle — That God puts no difference between man 
and man ; — is no respecter of persons ; but that " in 
EVERY NATION hc that fcarcth God, and worketh right- 
eousness is accepted of him." — Bright expansion of 
heavenly glory ! Welcome news from on high ! with 
emphasis may we say, in hearing this canon of grace 
— " The true light now shineth !" But what we have 
specifically to do with is this only — That the men 
who spent all their strength as preachers and writers 
in promulgating such a doctrine, and in an age too 
such as the one they actually lived in, were assuredly 
no fanatics. And let it be told that these preachers 
of universal good-will were not Grecian sages, but 
Jews ; — Jews born and bred in the very ferment of 
bigotry. Moreover the most conspicuous of this band 
of innovators burst upon the world in the very cha- 
racter of a sanguinary zealot — " a Hebrew of the He- 
brews" — a sanctimonious Pharisee — and by early 
propensity " a persecutor and injurious." — We loudly 
defy contradiction in affirming then, That Christianity, 
such as the Apostles held it, was not fanatical. 

As matter of argument it must be deemed quite 
superfluous, and yet as matter of impression it might 
be proper, to adduce the preceptive and concluding 
portions of this same epistle to the Romans in proof of 
the symmetry and- completeness of that moral code 
which the writer promulgates or enforces. And after 
doing so, we should be entitled to the inference, on an- 
other ground, that he was no fanatic ; — for the fanatic 
never fails to exaggerate or deform morality, on the 
one side, or on the other. We must not however omit 



NOT FANATICAL. 345 

to mention (for it is of peculiar importance) the deci- 
sive assertion of the duty of submitting to civil povv^ers 
that occurs in the 13th chapter of this epistle. Taking 
with us our modern anxious notions of civil liberty, 
we might perhaps covet to find in this noted passage, 
some exception made in favour of popular rights. Be 
this desire reasonable or not, it is certain that so full 
and clear a statement of the relative duty of magistrate 
and subject, in favour of the former, is in a high degree 
remarkable, as coming from a man who, through a 
long course of years, had endured all sorts of wrongs 
from the " powers that then were" — both Jewish and 
Roman. No exasperation, it is evident, had grown as 
a habit upon the writer's mind. He did not (fanatic- 
like) seek to revenge himself upon dignities and 
thrones, by sapping, in the opinions of the infant sect, 
the foundations of political obedience. In later ages 
it is hard to find, among the persecuted, parallel in- 
stances of forbearance. 

If Christians of every age had but paid deference 
to it, the I4th chapter of this epistle contains, within 
the compass of a few verses, a comprehensive refuta- 
tion of every pretext of religious faction, whether 
urged by the refractory, or by the despotic party. The 
simplest principles are always those which mankind 
are the slowest to learn. It has been so in philosophy ; 
— it has been so in the business of civil government ; 
— and it is so in matters of religion. A doctrine which, 
when expressed at large, seems too trite or obvious to 
be formally announced, and which asks no proof, is 
the very point that the perversity of the human mind 
evades or shuns. To whatever causes the pertinacity 
of sectarism may be attributed (a question foreign to 
our subject) it remains certain that Christianity, as 
taught hy the Apostles, is wholly guiltless of the mis^ 
chief. The chapter just named, and another of like 
import,* abundantly refute the calumny that the Reli^ 

♦ I Cor, v\u 



346 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

gion of Christ is generative of discords. The i/vh of 
iftan could devise no cautionary provision against such 
evils more complete, more conclusive, or more perspic- 
uous, than the one v^e here find. Precept, argument, 
instruction, have done their utmost. With what fresh- 
ness and vigour do good sense and charity breathe com- 
bined in every phrase and verse of this chapter 1 If we 
have been wading through the noisome quags of church 
squabbles (ancient or modern) the effect upon the 
mind of turning to this passage — bright and clear, is 
like that of escaping from a pestilential swamp, where 
we were tormented by the musquito, to a hill-top on 
which the gales are pure, the sky clear, and the pros- 
pect unbounded ! To quote any single verse of the 
chapter, apart from its context, were a damage ; for 
the whole is closely woven together in conformity with 
liie genuine rules of natural and manly eloquence. It 
only remains to remind the reader (after he has turned 
to the passage) of the conclusion — That the writer of 
the epistle, whatever might have been his temper in 
early life, was no fanatic at the time when he address- 
ed the Christians of Rome. 

Evidence to the same effect, both of a negative and 
positive kind, might be drawn from the epistles to the 
churches at Ephesus and at Colosse. Besides the 
purity and simplicity of the ethical portions of these 
letters, which bespeak a sound and tranquil mind, the 
only special points to be adverted to, are the explicit 
assertion in both epistles, of the equalization of religious 
privileges, and the nullity of those exclusive preten- 
sions on which the Jew founded his contempt of the 
bulk of mankind. — " Christ," says the Apostle, " is our 
peace, who hath made Jew and Gentile one, having 
broken down the middle wall of partition." — ^Again : 
" Ye therefore are no more strangers and foreigners ; 
but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the house- 
hold of God." We find also in the epistle to the 
Colossians a very remarkable (shall we say a prophetic) 
caution against that spirit of mingled superstition and 



NOT FANATICAL. 347 

fanaticism- — of presumption and servility, which so 
soon made its appearance in the Church, and rapidly 
spread, and actually held its sway, undisputed, more 
than a thousand years. The voluntary {or artificial) 
humiliations — the worshipping of angels — the sancti- 
monious abstinences — the human traditions — the spe- 
cious piety, and the idle tormenting of the body ; in a 
word, all the elements of the great apostacy are her« 
designated in the most distinct manner ; or as if the 
many-coloured corruptions of the tenth century had 
vividly passed before the eye of the writer. How 
sound and healthy is that piety and that morality 
which he recommends in opposition to all such absurd- 
ities \ 

II. We turn next to those of the epistles of Paul 
which, in a more direct manner, are personal commu- 
nications from the writer to the parties addressed, and 
which, as they relate to local controversies, disagree- 
ments, or partialities, rife at the moment, may be 
expected to exhibit more of the writer's sensitiveness 
than a bare theological treatise, or a hortatory letter 
is likely to display. The genuine character and dis- 
positions of an author naturally become most conspi- 
cuous on those occasions when he is wrought upon by 
personal feelings. Six of the Pauline epistles come 
under this description ; and we first advert to those 
that are altogether of an amicable kind, and embody 
the writer's lively affection to two favoured societies. 

The epistle " to the faithful at Philippi " is a warm 
expression of feeling, such as is proper to an endeared 
personal friendship, resting on the basis of a thorough 
confidence. The tenderness and the graciousness that 
pervade it are much to our present purpose ; and so 
is that spirit of lofty and fervent piety which it 
breathes ; for these are conclusive proof of what the 
influence of Christianity was in its pristine era. But 
we shall pause only at certain specific indications of 
the temper of the wiiter. The first of these is of an 
extmordinary sort, and may appear to contradict the 



348 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

supposition, drawn from other sources, that the 
apostles maintained the honours of their high function 
by a stern and efficacious rebuke of factious proceed- 
ings. But the truth seems to be that, although on 
urgent occasions, and when they had to deal hand to 
hand w^ith the contumacious sectarist or pernicious 
heretic, they used with promptitude "the power which 
the Lord had given them," their native feelings, abhor- 
rent of the despotic and jealous course customary with 
spiritual dignities, restrained them from emploj^ng 
penal powers, if by any means it could be avoided. 
What Paul's inner dispositions were in relation to 
contentious or ambitious zealots, we here perceive. — 
" Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife 
— of contention, not sincerely, supposing (intending) 
to add affliction to my bonds. — What then 1 notwith- 
standing every way, whether in pretence or in truth, 
Christ is preached, and I therein do rejoice, yea, and 
will rejoice ! " Can this be the language of the man 
who, some thirty years before, had been seen raging 
up and down through the streets of Jerusalem, and 
cramming its dungeons with innocent women and 
children ? Christianity truly had done his temper no 
harm in the interval ! 

In personal conflict with these vexatious dema- 
gogues, Paul might perhaps, from a sense of public 
duty, have assumed another tone ; but we see that 
when, in the freedom of private friendship, he refers 
to the rancour of such teachers toward himself, his 
mind was not that of the despot, or of the fanatic. — It 
is evident, on the contrary, that much personal profi- 
cieny in the virtues of self-command, qualified him to 
admonish others — " to be of one accord, of one mind ; 
— to do nothing through strife, or vain-glory, but in 
lowliness of mind to esteem others better than them- 
selves." 

A similar affection was borne by the apostle to the 
Thessalonian Christians : and on the strength of that 
affection, and in the spirit of conscious integrity, he 



NOT FANATICAL. 349 

appeals to them to attest, as well the integrity as the 
mildness of his ministerial conduct among them. A 
foreknowledge, probably, of the vengeance then im- 
pending the Jewish people, and near to fall upon the 
rebelhous city, seems to be couched in the terms he 
employs when speaking of his outrageous countrymen. 
Yet it cannot be said that the passage breathes a vin- 
dictive spirit, or that it is unbecoming the occasion. — 
" The wjrath (that specific judgment, long ago threat- 
ened) is come upon them to the utmost, who both 
killed the Lord Jesus, as they did their own prophets; 
and have persecuted us, and please not God, and are 
contrary to all men — forbidding the progress of the 
Gospel among the Gentiles." Yet the painful theme 
is instantly dropped, and the happier sentiments — the 
characteristic sentiments of the writer's mind, prevail. 
It is not (as we nee.l hardly affirm) a simple declara- 
tion of the Divine displeasure against sin, or the author- 
ized announcement of approaching judgment, that 
indicate the fanatic ; — for this office may in fact be the 
highest work of charity, and may be performed under 
the impulse of the warmest benevolence. But it is 
when the wrath of heaven is a man's chosen and con- 
stant theme, and when, without any commission to 
that effect, he takes upon him to hurl the bolts of the 
Most High, this way and that — at individuals or at 
communities : — it is then that we justly impute malev- 
olence, as well as a gloomy extravagance of temper. 
Now v/hen we find, in the second of Paul's epistles to 
the believers of Thes-saionica, one of the most appal- 
ling descriptions of the future wrath that the Bible any 
where contains, it may be enough to compare the in- 
sulated passage with -he general tenor of the writer's 
letters for the purpose of proving that " the perdition 
of ungodly men" was as far as possible from being the 
topic toward which his thoughts continually tended, and 
upon which (as the fanatic) he was always copious, 
eloquent, and at ease. But we are bound to go fur- 
ther ; and while we pause (in the next chapter) at the 

31 



350 RELIGION OP THE BIBLE 

prophetic description of the great apostasy that seven 
centuries afterwards, should reach its height, who does 
not stand back, as if in the Divine Presence, and con- 
fess that it is not Paul but the Omniscient God who 
speaks ? — Every phrase of terror — is it not deep as 
the thunder of Heaven ? When the Supreme thus 
distinctly utters his voice from on high, let him that 
dares come forward to arraign the style ? 

But we are soon brough back to the level of human 
sentiments, and again see the writer's genuine charac- 
ter in the casual expression of his mind, as occasions 
arise. " If any man obey not our word by this epis- 
tle, note that man, and have no company with him, 
that he may be ashamed." Here is apostolic vigour — 
necessary for the general good ; nevertheless the cul- 
prit is not forgotten ; much less consigned to venge- 
ance. — " Yet count him not as an enemy ; but admon- 
ish him as a brother." The caution this, of a paternal 
heart. 

The two epistles to the Christians of Corinth, and 
the one to those of Galatia, are marked by a special- 
ity of meaning in every part, and also by a frequent 
admixture of personal feelings ; yet of a different 
kind from that which distinguishes the letters last men- 
tioned. Capital errors, and practical abuses, and 
church disorders in the one instance, and a grave per- 
version of doctrine in the other, brought into play the 
sterner elements of the apostolic character, and w^e see, 
by this means, not only what was the writer's style of 
reproof; but what was the temper called up in him 
by open and irritating opposition to his just authority. 
Shall it not be now, that young Saul — the tyro of 
Gamaliel, is to reappear on the stage, while Paul, the 
disciple of Jesus, stands aside ? 

The evidence is before us. Nothing can be nwre 
free and natural than the manner of these composi- 
tions ; nothing more lively or spirited. If we want 
native expressions of a writer's very soul, here we 
have them. And it may be added that while these 



NOT FANATICAL. 351 

three epistles abound with those incidental allusions to 
facts and to persons which place their genuineness far 
beyond doubt, they present also, in a remarkable de- 
gree, those fresh touches of human sentiment — abso- 
lutely inimitable, which alone would be enough to as- 
sure all who have any perception of truth and nature^ 
that we are conversing with real and living objects ; 
not with spurious images. 

The first topic that meets us, and the one which. 
manifestly was uppermost in the writer's mind, is that 
of the factions that had sprung up among the Corinth- 
ian converts. — We reach then here the very point of 
our experimentum crucis. — In what manner does the 
religious Chief deal with the divisions of those who 
(many of them) were calling in question his apostolic 
authority? Now not to insist upon that general rule 
of policy which leads a chief to manage factions for 
his own advantage ; or to play one party against an- 
other, it is certain that, if a man's own spirit be fac- 
tious — if he harbour a secret virulence, the tenden- 
cies of nature will draw him on, ere he is aware, and 
even against his sense of personal discretion, to take a 
side, and to jom in the fray. Whatever tone of impar- 
tiality he may assume, or how sincerely soever he may 
wish to compose the feud, he will be sure to throw in 
some pungent matter that shall increase the ferment. 
But Paul on this occasion neither acts the wily part of 
the adroit demagoojue, nor the involuntary part of the 
fanatic. He grants not the slightest favour, even by 
any indirect inference, to his personal adherents in 
the Corinthian church. But on the contrary, without 
distinction, condemns and contemns the sactarists of 
those four denominations. — " Every one of you saith, I 
am of Paul, and I of Appollos, and I of Cephas, and 
I of Christ ! — Is then Christ divided ?" And while 
" one saith I am of Paul, and another I am of Apollos, 
are ye not carnal ?" Yes, " babes in Christ" — persons 
w4io, notwithstanding all their boasted gifts, were in 
fact only just opening their eyes (if so much) upon the 



352 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

world of truth. And who is Paul, and who Apollos ? 
Will you say Leaders and Princes in the Church ? 
nay, nothing more than subservient agents in the hand 
of the Lord. " Let a man so account of us as the 
ministers (menials) of Christ, and stewards only of 
the mysteries of God." 

There is neither guile nor ambition in this : nor can 
it be thought to savour of the smothered inflammatory 
style of one whose factious temper is always getting 
the better of his sense of interest and his motives of 
policy. The blow is aimed at the very root of discord ; 
and the apostles themselves v»'ould retreat from the 
place of honour that belonged to them, if no other 
means could be found for withdrawing their names 
from the banners of a party. " In handling this sub- 
ject," says Paul, " I have thus used my own name and 
that of Apollos, that ye might learn in us (though in 
fact we be rightful chiefs in the Church) not to think of 
any above what is enjoined ; and that no one of yott 
be inflated with zeal for one, against another." 

Yet must the apostolic authority be exerted in a 
manner that shall inspire the disorderly with fear. Yes, 
but it is not the personal antagonists of Paul that are 
selected as the objects of the supernatural infliction : — 
a shameless violator of the common principles of 
morality is the victim. " In the name of the Lord 
Jesus, let the incestuous man be delivered nnto Satan, 
for the destruction of the flesh ; that the spirit may 
be saved in the day of the Lord." 

Whatever incidental evils may anse from that sepa- 
ration and seclusion which Christianity involves, they 
would all, or nearly all, be avoided, if the apostolic 
rule were but adhered to, such as we ^nd it lumin- 
ously laid down in these epistles to the Corinthians, 
and which, if reduced into an abstract form, might 
be thus expressed ; — That the rigours of church dis- 
cipline should be made to bear upon the society itself\ 
while a bland, unscrupulous and unsanctimonious 
courtesy of behaviour on the part of Christians to 



NOT FANATICAL. 353 

wards others, allows the leaven of the Gospel freely 
to mingle itself with the general mass of mankind. 
What can more approve itself to reason than a princi- 
ple like this ? What can be more unlike the supercili- 
ous monasticism and the morose sectarism of the 
fanatic ? Indeed sectarists and fanatics of all classes, 
and in every age, have just reversed the apostolic 
canon. — That is to say, they have enclosed themselves 
and their sanctity in a coop of pride, so as to deprive 
the profane world of the benefit it might have got 
from the spectacle of virtue so exalted ; and at the 
same time have expended their entire fund of indul- 
gences — one upon another. Nothing has been so hard 
as to get admission into the exquisite circle of purity ; 
— nothing so easy as to live there when once admitted ! 
It has been like climbing a painful and rugged steep — 
to find at the summit, a luxurious level. 

The apostle Vi^ould have it quite otherwise. Let us 
stop to gaze a moment upon his golden, but much 
neglected maxim of church polity. Alas, that the 
roll of church history illustrates its excellence so often 
by contrarieties ! 

" I have here been enjoining you not to hold any 
intercourse with persons of impure manners ; (but do 
not misunderstand me) I am not speaking of worldly 
men, whether covetous or rapacious, or idolatrous : for 
to observe any such rule in relation to them w^ould be 
to exclude yourselves altogether from the social econ- 
omy. On the contrary, my meaning is, that you 
should maintain no intimacy with one who, making a 
profession of the Gospel, and calhng himself a brother, 
is licentious, avaricious, profane ; is addicted to slan- 
der, or is intemperate, or rapacious. For what aflfair 
of mine is it to exercise jurisdiction over those who 
have not voluntarily placed themselves within the circle 
of church censure? Such belong to the Divine Tri- 
bunal. But judge ye those of your own society : — and 
in the present instance, excommunicate this same 
flagitious person." 

31* 



354 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

How might the Church by this time, and long ngo 
have spread itself through the world, and its purity 
have been maintained, if regard had been paid to the 
simple rule we have quoted ! The same law of charity 
and integrity, expanded and applied to the difficult 
question of social communication with idolaters, is 
brought forward again in the 8th and 10th chapters. — 
Shall we find any one so uncandid or so perverted in 
spirit as to refuse to Paul the praise of high good 
sense, as well as of benignity in this instance ? The 
whole of the practical instructions that fill the middle 
chapters of the first epistle to the Corinthian church, 
are eminently characteristic of a calm and temperate 
mind ; and stand in full opposition to the crooked 
policy, to the acrid bigotry, to the imbecile conscien- 
tiousness, and to the foul hypocrisy that so often have 
deformed the profession of the Gospel. 

Must apostolic rigour pursue its victim with inexor- 
able wrath ? Far from it. How does the paternal 
spirit of Paul rejoice (in the second epistle) over the 
ref.entant culprit ! " Sufficient to such a man is this 
punishment ; — comfort him, therefore, lest he be 
swallow^ed up with over-much sorrow. — Wherefore I 
beiicech you that ye would confirm your love toward 
him." A father in the midst of his children does not 
sooner relent, or hasten more to meet a penitent son, 
than does this apostle, as we see him administering the 
affairs of the infant church. 

A delicate part remained to be performed in refer- 
ence to the indispensable duty of asserting the apostolic 
power, impugned as it had been by a factious Jewish 
party at Corinth. In measure the argument was a 
personal controversy ; yet did it involve common 
principles. The occasion was precisely one of that 
peculiar and difficult kind on which a public person 
feels that he must defend himself, as an individual^ 
against those who, in assailing his single reputation, 
mean much more than to tread a fair name in the 
dust : in such a case the timid, or the falsely modest, 



NOT FANATICAL. 355 

give ground ; — and murky pride throws up public in- 
terests, rather than descend to explanation with a 
despised antagonist ; while the arrogant or despotic 
chief comes out in ire to repel the assault, and thinks 
only how best to ^ave his personal importance. 

The course taken by the Apostle is quite of a differ- 
ent sort. The mingled strain of apology, remon- 
strance, and entreaty, which closes the epistle to the 
Corinthians, brings together, in admirable combination, 
the emotions of a highly sensitive, generous, humble, 
and yet noble mind, striving alternately with itself, 
and with its sense of public duty. The abrupt transi- 
tions, the frequent interrogations, the sudden appeals, 
and the genial warmth of the whole, impart an historic 
life to the passage, such as makes the reader think 
that he sees and hears the speaker actually before him. 
It is saying little to affirm that a composition of this 
order stands immensely remote from the suspicion of 
spuriousness : — if this be not reality, the objects that 
now press upon the senses are not real ; and the 
stamp of truth v,^hich marks it, involves also the truth 
of the Christian system. But this is not all ; — for if 
we ought in any case to rely upon the universal princi- 
ples of human nature, as they are gathered from history 
and observation, we may affirm that it is the property 
of gloomy or malignant opinions, or of notions that 
are preposterous and exaggerated, to impart a certain 
fixedness or monotony to the mind and temper : — 
the passions become set ; — the style of expression, 
even if vehement and copious, is of one order only ; 
— the themes of discourse are few, and the drift is 
ever the same. Were it demanded to assij^n some 
single characteristic which should mark the fanatic in 
every case, the same exclusiveness might be given as 
the infallible sign. On the contrary, a free play of 
the faculties and eraotions, and a graceful versatility 
of mind, is the distinction of those v>^ho live in the 
light, and inhale the pure breezes of day. An expan- 
sive benevolence, conjoined with the mild affections 



356 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

of common life, not only renders the heart sensitive 
on all sides, but imparts an interchangeable mobility 
to the entire circle of feelings, so that transitions from 
one to another are easy and rapid ; — the character, in 
its general aspect, is pleasantly diversified. The storms 
of December are of one hue, and rush across the 
heavens in one direction ; but the Summer's sky has 
many colours, and a new beauty for every hour. 

Now we might assume the rapid interchange of 
subjects and sentiments, and the abruptness of the 
style, and its sparkling vivacity, in the passage before 
us, as sufficient proof of our position, that the mind 
of Paul, far from having been rigidly fixed in one 
mood by Christianity, had actually acquired, under its 
influence, more copiousness of feeling than his early 
course seemed to promise. The Gospel had made 
him — we appeal confidently to the instance now before 
us — the Gospel had made Paul a man of much feeling,^ 
and of many feelings. But fanaticism, if it quickens 
some single sensibility, renders others torpid, and after 
a while reduces the character to the narrowest range, 
or brings on intellectual atrophy. 

We have yet to advert, for a moment, to the epistle 
to the Christian societies of Galatia; but do not 
meddle with what belongs in it to the theologian, and 
which has often enough been treated of: what is 
pertinent to our immediate purpose may soon be said. 
Written about the middle of his apostolic course, and 
at the season of ripened manhood, it may be assumed 
to exhibit the effect of Christianity after it had fully 
settled itself upon the moral and mental habits of 
Paul, and before the force of his spirit had become at 
all abated. We find in it, as we might expect, the 
highest degree of vigour and vivacity ; as well as a 
very decisive tone, and even an authoritative challenge 
of submission to his dictates in matters of religious 
truth. There is nothing feeble in this epistle ; and yet 
we meet indications of that paternal tenderness which 
distinguishes his addresses to the best-loved churches : 



NOT FANATICAL. 357 

there is the same candour too in acknowledging what- 
ever was laudable among these societies ; and more- 
over such a mixture of abstract argument with per- 
sonal persuasion as indicates the writer's desire to deal 
reasonably with whoever would listen to reason. 
Five-sixths of the whole composition is calm explana- 
tion of facts^ or adduction of evidence. But this is 
not the style of offended pride, when it rankles in the 
bosom of an intemperate and ii'ritated dignitary. 

Yet the main feature of the epistle to the Galatians 
is the breadth of the practical principles it supports, 
and the opposition it offers to the bigotry, superstition, 
and spiritual pride of the Jewish teachers. If Paul be 
vehement, it is always in behalf of common sense and 
liberality : if he be indignant, it if; when he mantles to 
break the chain of spiritual despoti^.m : if he be stern, 
it is to uphold consistency. — Even Peter, he " with- 
stood to the face," on account of culpable compliances 
v^ith Jewish sanctimoniousness. The obsolete system 
of national seclusion he discards, by afiirming that 
now, within the Christian Church, all extrinsic distinc- 
tions are merged. " There is neither Greek nor Jew, 
there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male 
nor female ; — for all are one in Christ Jesus." That 
superstition too, which waits only an accidental excite- 
ment to kindle into virulent fanaticism, he treats with 
objurgation and contempt. " How turn ye again to 
the weak and beggarly elements, whereto ye desire 
again to be in bondage ? — Ye observe days, and 
months, and times, and years. — I am afraid of you, 
lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain!" — ■ 
" Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath 
made us free, and be not entangled again with the 
yoke of bondage." — " In Christ Jesus, neither circum- 
cision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision ; but 
faith, which worketh by love." And yet this liberty 
was not libertinism. " Use not your liberty for an 
occasion to the flesh ; but by love serve one another." 
— " Walk in the Spirit, and' ye shall not fulfil the lusts 
of the flesh." 



358 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

But this is that very style of sound sense and mode* 
ration, and that generalization of principles, 
WITHOUT laxity, which so grievously offends the 
imbecile pietist, the scrupulous bigot, and the virulent 
fanatic. — It is the style of Paul ; and his invariable 
use of it carries forward our present argument toward 
a triumphant issue. 

III. The four epistles to individuals — especially the 
three that are clerical or official, demand to be 
reviewed. 

The question in hand might, with very little hazard 
— perhaps with none, be made to rest upon the soli- 
tary evidence of the epistle to Philemon. If we knew 
nothing more of the writer's temper than what breaks 
upon us through the tenderness and grace of this short 
letter (and were informed also that the same person 
had commenced his course as a sanguinary zealot) 
the proof would be complete, that the system under 
which his character had been matured, must have 
been of the most benign sort. No such inconsistency 
has ever presented itself on the various field of human 
nature as that of a man who being by constitutional 
tendency fierce and despotic, after yielding himself 
through a long course of years to the influence of a 
gloomy creed, was yet, at the close of life, such as 
this letter declares " Paul the aged " to have been. 
It is certain then, that Paul's creed was not gloomy ; 
but on the contrary, benign ; and benign in the most 
active and efficacious sense. Is there not in the 
epistle to Philemon a melody of love, struck from the 
chords of a nicely attuned heart ? Yet it was the 
Gospel, not Nature that so attuned it. 

If a man's character is to be known more certainly 
from his conversation with his intimate friends or 
family, than from his public harangues, so, and for the 
same reasons, a private correspondence is more avail- 
able for such a purpose than a general treatise. And 
again, if there be any one species of personal and 
private correspondence which, more than another, 



NOT FANATICAL. 359 

lays open a writer's secret principles, it is that carried 
on between men of the same profession or calling, on 
subjects involving the credit and interests of that 
calling. The sentiments of public persons towards 
the commonalty over which they exercise a control 
founded altogether on opinion, are very apt to assume 
an aspect either of hostility, or of craftiness. Then 
when such official persons interchange their private 
feelings, and especially when a superior of the order 
conveys instructions to the subaltern, there will infal- 
libly peep out, in some part, the sinister sentiment — 
the harboured grudge, the sly maxims of professional 
prudence, or the lurking acrimony and arrogance 
toward the populace — if in fact any such oblique 
motive or principle exist in the mind of the writer ; 
nor will any discretion avail to prevent its appearance. 
Now having before us a writer's various composi- 
tions, if we go over them all, beginning with those of 
a general or abstract kind, and advance to such as are 
more specific, and at last open the packet of his pri- 
vate and professional papers, we compass him on all 
sides ; — we beleaguer his very soul — throw open the 
" keep" of his heart, and leave him no chance of main- 
taining his concealment. — If Paul may not be known 
from his two letters to Timothy, and that to Titus, no 
writer can at all be judged of from the records he has 
left of himself. The genuineness of these letters is 
abundantly established, and by the best sort of proof. 
No one competent to estimate literary evidence can 
even pretend to doubt of it. — Moreover they were 
composed (the last of them especially) very near the 
close of the writer's apostolic course, and when his 
mind had admitted all the influence it could admit 
from the system to which his life had been devoted. 
They were addressed too, to subordinates in office ; 
yet \o men endeared and familiar by community in 
labours and sufferings. What forbids us then — what 
rule of historic evidence, acknowledged as valid, for- 
bids us to assunae these same letters as conclusive 



360 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

Proof in a question concerning the quality and ten- 
dency of Christianity in its first stage ? 

Let now some speculative reasoner come up, and 
say — ." The view that is presented in the New Testa- 
ment of the moral condition of mankind, and of the 
doom of the impenitent, and of the agency or inter- 
ference of evil spirits, cannot but have a pernicious or 
malign influence over the human mind." — In rebutting 
any such hypothetical objection we should instantly 
turn from theory to fact, and reply — If the supposition 
were indeed well founded, it is certain that the learn- 
ed zealot of Tarsus must have fully received upon the 
sensitive surface of his native character any such fanat- 
ical excitement, and it is certain too, that a thirty or 
forty years of injurious treatment would so have ag- 
gravated and fixed whatever was bad in his natural 
temper, that bis last letters would verily have reeked 
with venom. But is it so in fact ? Let these letters 
say. Must we not acknowledge that, how sad and 
appalling soever may be the truths on the ground of 
which the Gospel proceeds, or on which it builds its 
superstructure of mercy — the efficacious motives it 
brings in upon the human mind are far p^nro ([j^jj 
enough to correct the gloomy influence of those facts, 
and do actually avail to produce the most perfect ex- 
amples of gentleness, meekness, and universal good- 
will ; — aye, and to engender this bland philanthropy 
even upon an intemperate spirit ! 

Our evidence on this point has a more extended 
consequence than may at first appear, and is such as 
to justify the share of attention now claimed for it. 

These valedictory letters (for w^e may so deem them) 
in the first place prove, what before we have alleged, 
that the mildness of the apostle's character, such as it 
appears in the greater part of his writings, was not the 
consequence of a prostration of his native vigour, or 
an enfeebling of that constitutional vivacity which 
brought him so early upon the stage of public life. 
The sort of advice he gives to Titus in reference to 



NOT FANATICAL. 361 

the factious and dissolute Jews of Crete (as well as 
similar passages in the epistles to Timothy) makes it 
certain that the repellent force of his mind remained 
undiminished. — Paul had not become so easy — much 
less imbecile, as to wink at disorders, or tamely to 
allow either the apostolic or the episcopal authority to 
be sported with. 

Yet it was no personal homage that he demanded, 
such as ambition seeks for. — " I was before a blas- 
phemer, and a persecutor, and injurious" — an eminent 
example of that mercy which even " the chief of 
sinners" henceforward may hope to receive. The 
first point insisted upon in these pastoral admonitions 
is, that prayer and praise should be offered in the 
christian assemblies continually on behalf " of al! men," 
especially *'for kings, and all that are in authority. 
For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God 
our Saviour, who will have all men to be saved, and 
to come to the knowledge of the truth." Is it the reli- 
gious misanthrope who speaks in this passage ? — there 
is certainly heard in it no growl of the Jewish grudge 
against the bulk of mankind ; nor does it convey the 
writer's covert revenge against the Roman or Jewish 
authorities, that had every where loaded him with 
WTongs. One might, for a moment, fancy that Paul 
had at length gained access to the imperial saloon — 
was basking in the sunshine of the court, and thence 
was issuing mandates to the christian world in the 
fulness of his complacency. Alas — he was still the 
tenant of a dungeon ! Mark it ; — this command to 
pray for kings and magistrates was sealed by a hand 
then actually encumbered with the chain of despotic 
power ! 

The description given of episcopal qualifications in 
these letters might be pertinently adduced as proof of 
the modesty and soundness of the writer's conceptions 
of spiritual supremacy. To estimate fairly this de- 
scription we ought to place in comparison with it 
certain magnific passages that might readily be quoted 

32 



362 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

from even the most moderate of the Fathers. He 
who, as we have seen, is neither murky and contuma- 
cious towards secular authorities, nor exorbitant and 
preposterous in his notions of ecclesiastical prerogative, 
may justly claim a rare praise, inasmuch as the one of 
these faults, or the other (if not both together) has 
ordinarily belonged to men who have stood at the 
head of religious communities in times of persecution. 

" Alexander the coppersmith did me much evil : — 
the Lord reward him according to his works ;" — an 
announcement, this, of righteous retribution, and in 
harmony with the established tone of divinely com- 
missioned men ; and necessary to the maintenance of 
apostolic authority. But we find that the irksome 
subject is glanced at only, and that an instantaneous 
transition is made to one which, although painful also, 
serves to bring into view that rule of discrimination 
according to which the apostles meted out their cen- 
sures — " making a difference, and of some having 
compassion." " At my first answer" (arraignment) 
says Paul, " no man stood with me ; but all forsook 
me : — Let it not be laid to their charge !'' 

A criterion of a man's temper might with great 
safety be drawn from the simple, though not obtrusive, 
circumstance of the sort of transitions he is accustomed 
to make in unpremediated converse with his friends, 
or in his confidential correspondence. It is in these 
sudden turns and replications that the inner texture 
of the soul is exposed to view. Every one who has 
been a meditative listener to the familiar talk of man- 
kind, is well aware of the significance of the fact we 
here refer to. The characteristic of the mind, and of 
its individual affections, is not so well furnished by 
what a man says on such or such a topic, deliberately 
brought before him, as by what he slides into, when 
the immediate subject is dismissed. — If pride rankle 
in the bosom — if murky revenge be the master passion 
—if envy bear rule within the hidden world ; or if 
spiritual arrogance be the yeast that ferments in the 



NOT FANATICAL. 363 

soul, we shall readily detect the disguised malady as 
often as the man makes his transition, or turns off from 
the question or discourse that has engaged him. 

And how, on the other hand, does the benignity — 
the charitable hope — the k'ind interpretation of what 
is ambiguous, break out from the casual converse of 
a tranquil and happy spirit ! Let the sky be never so 
much darkened, we feel (when in such company) that 
a summer's sun is somewhere above the horizon : and 
ere long its power and brightness actually bursts out, 
even from the midst of gloom and thunder. — Now by 
this very rule, and it is perhaps one of the most con- 
stant and certain of any that may be advanced as a 
clew to the secrets of the human heart, we are content 
that the writer of the Pauline epistles should be judg- 
ed, and the quality of his deepest motives, and the 
colour of his habitual sentiments be decisively spoken 
of. We say then that the writings of Paul, abrupt 
and elliptical as his method often seems, are in a spe- 
cial manner distinguished by a frequent beaming forth 
of hope and glory when least one expects it. — He 
writes like a man who descends to his subject from a 
higher sphere : — as for example, when, after laying 
down the rule of behaviour proper to a servile condi- 
tion, and insisting upon submissiveness and fidehty, he 
returns, as in a moment, to the very summit of joy. 
" For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath 
appeared to all men, teaching us," not only the virtues 
of common life, but that we should " look for that 
blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great 
God, our Saviour, Jesus Christ." Almost immediately 
we meet with a sudden transition of another sort, in- 
dicative of the permanent humility of the writer's 
mind, as well as of its broad benignity and good-will. 
" Put them in mind to be subject to principalities, to 
speak evil of no man, to be no brawlers ; but gentle, 
shewing all meekness to all men. — For we ourselves 
also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, 
serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and 



RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

envy, hateful, and hating one another. But after that 
the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward 
man appeared." — Is not this the natural turn of a 
mind at once humble, pious, and benevolent ? 

" This thou knowest (or, knowest thou this ?) that all 
they which are in Asia be turned away from me, of 
whom are Phygellus and Hermogenes." But does re- 
sentment lodge in the writer's mind ; or is the subject 
pursued and morosely grasped? What meet we in 
the very next verse ? — " The Lord give mercy unto 
the house of Onesiphorus ; for he oft refreshed me, 
and was not ashamed of my chain. But when he was 
in Rome he sought me out very diligently, and found 
me. The Lord grant unto him that he may find mer- 
cy of the Lord in that day ; and in how many things 
he ministered unto me at Ephesus, thou knowest very 
well." — Some universal axiom of a happy aspect is 
the ordinary corollary of this writer's incidental ad- 
vices : — as thus — "Refuse profane and old wives' 
fables ; and exercise thyself rather unto godliness ; for 
bodily exercise profiteth little ; but godliness is profitable 
unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, 

and of that which is to come We trust in the 

living God, who is the Saviour of all men, spe- 
cially of those that beheve." " From men of corrupt 
minds, destitute of the truth, withdraw thyself; but 

GODLINESS WITH CONTENTMENT IS GREAT GAIN ; for 

we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain 
we can carry nothing out ; having therefore food and 
raiment, let us be therewith content." In several 
instances the most sublime of ail the doxologies which 
the Scriptures contain are those thrown by Paul into 
the midst of his discussion of lower subjects. Per- 
haps, if we were to select the passages in his epistles 
from which, more signally than from any others, the 
brightness of the upper world shines out, they would 
be those that most abruptly turn the current of his dis- 
course. Yet what is this, if we are to lay any stress 
upon the constant laws of the human mind, but proof 



NOT FANATICAL. 365 

that the happiest, the most expansive, and the most 
elevated sentiments constituted the very substance, or 
inner body, of the writers ciiaracter, so that every 
rapid transition he makes, and every sudden move- 
ment is a revulsion from the sombre to the bright ; — or 
from wrath to mercy ; — or from duties to recom- 
pences ; — in one word, from earth to heaven ! 

Christianity then, such as we find it in the Scrip- 
tures, is benign — it is from Heaven ; and even had it 
utterly vanished or ceased to affect mankind in the 
same age that saw it appear, the documentary proof of 
its divine origin would have remained not the less com- 
plete and irresistible. In that case — convinced as we 
must have been that the True Light had once, though 
but for a moment, glanced upon the earth, we should 
have looked wistfully upward in hope that the great 
revolutions of the heavens would at length bring round 
a second dawn, and a lasting day. 

But it is far otherwise ; and in coming to the close 
of a course that has presented the perversions, not the 
excellences of Christianity, we should seek relief from 
the impression made by a long continued contempla- 
tion of a single order of objects — and those the most 
dire. — The Gospel has had multitudes of genuine 
adherents — Christ a host of follow^ers, in the worst 
times ; or if the first three centuries, or the last three 
of Christian history, are looked to, it would indicate 
affectation, or a melancholy and malignant temper, to 
estimate at a low rate the extent of the true Church. 

Yet the terrible fact which, though predicted by 
the apostles, w^ould have astounded themselves had it 
stood before them in distinct perspective, remains to 
sadden our meditations — That an apostasy, dating its 
commencements from a very early age, spread over 
the whole area of Christendom, affecting every article 
of belief, and every rule of duty ; and that it held 
itself entire through much more than a thousand 
years. 

But what is our own position ? what stage on the 



366 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 

highway of truth has the Protestant community 
reached ? are the reformed churches calmly looking 
back, as from an elevation, and under the beams of 
day, upon a dark landscape, far remote, and hardly 
distinguishable ? or should it not rather be confessed 
ihat our reformations though real and immensely 
important, are initiative only ? This is certain that the 
evolutions of the Divine Providence exhibit seldom or 
never to the eye of man any hurried transition ; but 
that it renovates and restores by successive impulses, 
and these at distant intervals. We only follow then 
the established order of things when we hope that 
there is yet in reserve for the world the boon of an 
unsullied Christianity. 

The sinister sense in which men of a certain party 
would snatch at such a supposition, and affirm that 
even the prime articles of truth have not yet been 
disengaged from the general apostasy, except by the 
sceptic few, is peremptorily excluded by the fact of 
the general and popular diffusion, and devout perusal 
of the Scriptures. For if, even where universally 
read and piously studied, the Inspired Books fail to 
convey to the majority their principal meaning, it is 
certain that they are better discarded than any longer 
reverenced as Instruments of religious Instruction. If 
the Church — take what age we please — has not pos- 
sessed itself of the vital elements of sacred knowledge 
while unrestrainedly reading, and while diligently 
studying the Scriptures, then the labours of those who 
would tell us so, are idle ; for it must be confessed 
that the pursuit of truth at all on the field of Revela- 
tion, is a desperate enterprise. 

Yet this granted — and it is unquestionable, an atten- 
tive and impartial survey of the religious history of 
mankind leads to the conclusion (and it is on the one 
hand a consolatory, as well as on the other an afflictive 
conclusion) that the possession of the vital elements of 
religion may consist with such perversions, both in 
theory and sentiment, as deprive Christianity of its 



NOT FANATICAL. 367 

visible beauty, and forbid its propagation. Most of 
the examples adduced in the preceding sections come 
under the range of this principle ; and in presenting 
always the illustrious and the mitigated instances 
rather than the exaggerated or the base, the author 
has steadily held to his purpose of bringing home to 
every mind the conviction that no degree of piety 
should be allowed to protect the system under which 
it appears from the severest scrutiny, or from grave 
suspicions. 

If it be asked on what ground any such suspicion 
can fairly rest at a time when the characteristics of 
freedom, vigour, and activity broadly attach to the 
exterior of religious profession, it may at once be 
replied that there must be room for serious and un- 
sparing inquiries, so long as the actual products bear 
a very slender proportion to the means of general 
instruction — so long as Christianity fails to affect the 
more energetic portion of the community — so long as 
zealous endeavours to propagate the faith abroad, 
though not altogether unblessed, are followed, after a 
long trial, with scanty successes ; — but especially have 
w^e cause to suspect that some fatal and occult mis- 
understanding of the Gospel exists, v/hile the ecclesi- 
astical condition of the religious commonwealth is in 
all senses pi'eposterous. 

Let it be assumed that each separate article of our 
creed is well warranted by Scripture ; it may not- 
withstanding be true that indefinite misconceptions, 
affecting the Divine character and government, or 
that certain modes of feeling generated in evil days, 
and still uncorrected, exist, and operate to benumb 
the impulsive and expansive energies of the Gospel. 
Our interpretation of Christianity may be good, and 
may be pure enough for private use ; — it may be good 
in the closet, good as the source of the motives of 
common life ; and good as the ground of hope in 
death, and yet may be altogether unfit for conquest 
and triumph. That it is so unfit, should be assumed 



368 RELIGION OF THE BIBLE NOT FANATICAL. 

as the only pious and becoming explication we can 
give of the almost universal ignorance and irreligion 
of mankind. 

With no very easy sense of the greatness, the diffi- 
culty, and the peril of the task to which he puts his 
trembling and perhaps presumptuous hand, yet from 
the impulse of a feeling not to be repressed, and with 
a resolution not to be daunted, the Author — imploring 
aid from on High, will ask yet again the attention and 
the concurrence of those who, like himself — invincibly 
persuaded of the truth of Christianity, can taste no 
personal enjoyments, can admit no rest, while it falters 
on its course through the world. 




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